


Princess of Pampers

by CanUDigIt65, TheGrimmScribe (orphan_account)



Series: Autistic Fairyland [1]
Category: Disney Princesses, Once Upon a Time (TV), Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: ABDL, Alternate Canon, Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe - Once Upon a Time Fusion, Autism, Babysitting, Bigotry & Prejudice, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Christianity, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dark Fantasy, Diapers, Disability, Disney Cameos, Disney References, Drama & Romance, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Food, Genre Savvy, Hansel and Gretel Elements, Height Differences, Historical References, Infantilism, Inspired by Music, Judaism, Kings & Queens, Literary References & Allusions, Mild Sexual Content, Modern Royalty, Multi, Mythology References, Nannies, Non-Consensual Touching, Once Upon a Time (TV) References, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Pop Culture, Rapunzel Elements, References to Canon, Reincarnation, Revenge, Ruler of Arendelle Anna (Disney), Seduction, Self-Insert, Sorcerers, Sorceresses, Spells & Enchantments, Story within a Story, Surprise Party, Taverns, Team as Family, Twerking, Weird Plot Shit, Werewolves, Witchcraft, Witches, Wizard of Oz References, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 31,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23630656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanUDigIt65/pseuds/CanUDigIt65, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheGrimmScribe
Summary: For one-hundred-and-seventy years, the famous Welsh-Jewish Sorcerer known as Rabbi Merlin has documented the stories ofOnce Upon A Timewithin the fabled storybooks of his underground library. The Grimm Scribe works for the Rabbi as his autistic atheistic Apprentice and lives with him as his co-Author in his remote cottage. When the Sorcerer's Apprentice wakes up to find himself in the world of his alternative universe after biting into an enchanted apple that he thought was poisoned, he quickly discovers that his childhood dreams and semi-fetishistic fantasies have been brought to life within this Grimm world of entangled tales and enchanted misadventures where tropes, plot twists, and other literary elements are spoofed or otherwise alluded while the fourth wall is non-existent. The Author is transported to Corona by the adorably naughty Adult-Baby princess known as Rapunzel where he takes on the role of her  bodyguard and her lover. As the Author weaves his tales of his experiences and knowledge of other worlds, he also manages to make enemies out of haters and lovers out of friends along the way in this whole new world.
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney), Anna/Rapunzel (Disney), Beast/Belle (Disney), Charlotte La Bouff/Naveen/Tiana, Diablo/Maleficent (Disney), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Lance Strongbow, Gretel (Once Upon a Time: Sisterhood) & Hansel | Jack | Nick Branson, Pascal & Rapunzel (Disney), Queen Arianna of Corona & Rapunzel (Disney), Queen Arianna of Corona/King Frederic of Corona (Disney)
Series: Autistic Fairyland [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701076
Kudos: 2





	1. Arthurian Librarians and Dark Fairies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is a story within a story about the magic of storytellers, storytelling, and folklore which features my self-insert protagonist. The personality of my self-insert Fursona is basically the Goth werewolf version of Prince Ben from _Descendants_ meets Sora from _Kingdom Hearts_ mixed with Henry Mills from _Once Upon A Time_ if Henry Mills was an autistic man of color with weird fetishes and dark taste in comedy. The OC (Original Character) of my ABDL (Adult-Baby/Diaper Lover) co-writer (CanUDigIt65) shows up alongside my fictionalized self in the second half of the story (with his permission) as my sidekick. The plot of this story includes themes such as the power of coping mechanisms, kinky but consensual romance, the battle of fantastic nostalgia vs. the dark realities of adulthood, and a certain Adult-Baby princess with golden hair. I'll give you a spoiler: Her name is Rapunzel.**

**_Camelot, Wales_ **

**_April, 2020_ **

Rabbi Merlin Elliot Ambrosius Emyrs sat next to me in the basement of our cottage, enjoying his lonely dinner of coffee and boneless chicken wings while reading from one of his many storybooks he kept on the shelves as part of his sacred collection. He was the Jewish mage known as the Sorcerer. I was his autistic and atheistic Apprentice. The front cover of the Rabbi's storybook was titled _Once Upon A Time_ in ornate gold letters. The other two books beside him on his table were _Heroes and Villains_ and _Myths and Legends._ Documented within the pages of _Once Upon A Time_ were the adventures and escapades of fabled maidens. Peasants, royalty, and peasants-turned-royalty, the heroines within these stories were known by their fans throughout the Tri-Kingdom Area and the Land Without Magic. The Welsh sorcerer knew their names and their stories. He was currently reading Rapunzel’s story. On the right page was depicted a rectangular illustration of the autistic Adult-Baby princess herself. She was being carried in Anna’s arms. Her partner climbed out of the witch’s tower by using her wife’s cast-off rope ladder of braided golden hair. The four-foot-five princess sported her iconic pink-and-purple-dirndl and her five-foot-long French braid adorned with flowers. The environment outside the tower was a wilderness shrouded in the heavenly blanket of midnight, with the full moon hovering overhead. 

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel,” the Rabbi chuckled to himself.

Merlin took a sip of cranberry wine from his goblet. We knew it was common knowledge between us that Rapunzel was a baby at heart. The inner child was a companion that few adults kept in touch with. Only few were able to find the magic within the world of childhood and eternal youth. The Queen’s daughter was a strange but beautiful princess with a child’s heart and soul. Otherwise known as the Princess of Pampers, Rapunzel was one of the princesses that Merlin adored. Being the last Merlin of his generation, he was an eccentric but paternal wizard with no biological children of his own. He remembered raising a boy named Arthur from a knight’s apprentice to the Once and Future King of Camelot. Sadly, Arthur was killed by his own pride. Turning the page, Merlin smiled at the image of Rapunzel being reunited with Queen Arianna, her birth mother. He was happy to know that the Queen’s daughter was safe and sound, and that her abuser was dead and gone forever. 

“Good evening, Merlin.” 

The Rabbi smiled as one of his old companions walked into the room. He recognized the raven-winged witch by her horns, her cheekbones, and her dark hair. She was the Mistress of Evil. Diablo was perched on her head. 

“Greetings, Maleficent. What brings the Queen of Neverland to my secret library?”

“I came here out of boredom,” Maleficent replied. “May I please sit down with you?” 

“Please do. It’s quite exhausting being in this cottage by myself with nobody but my devoted Scribe and the company of invisible servants to provide for me.”

The Dark Queen of Fairies sat down beside her former tutor on the sofa next to the fireplace. She noticed the story he was reading. 

“Did you know that Rapunzel is my surrogate niece?” the Mistress of Evil asked. 

“I know and see all,” Merlin claimed.

“Then you must surely know that her childhood was a tragic tale. She was brainwashed, enslaved, abused, and imprisoned in a tower for ten years by my daughter, the disgraced witch known as Gothel. The tower was built to imprison Rapunzel. Luckily, she escaped, turning the tables on her captor and making her the prisoner.”

“Rapunzel is a small baby and a smart girl,” the Rabbi remarked. 

“The Princess of Pampers is beautiful baby girl. I admire her resourcefulness in escaping her eighty-foot-tall prison," I replied.

“She’s one tough cookie,” Maleficent agreed. 

“Her tower isn’t her prison anymore. It’s her sanctuary," the Rabbi reminded me.

"I know."

“Her captor wasn’t the witch you thought she was,” Merlin replied.

“Are you saying that she wasn’t a murderer, a rapist, a pedophile, and a thieving harlot?” Maleficent retorted.

“No, she was all of those things, but you know she also claimed to be a disciple of the Evil Queen?”

“Her vanity, her murderous rage, and her penchant for poisoned apples should have been a dead giveaway.” 

“Well, she wasn’t a disciple,” the Rabbi argued. 

“What?” 

“She was the Queen.” 

“How is that possible? The Evil Queen isn't alive. She’s been dead for eighty-three years.” 

“Sometimes the dead don’t stay dead,” I said. 

"What does your surrogate grandson mean?" Maleficent demanded. 

“You know how Rapunzel is the reincarnation of Goldilocks and Queen Anna of Arendelle is basically the Norwegian counterpart of Red Riding Hood?” the Rabbi asked.

“Yes, I’m familiar with Rapunzel’s wife,” Maleficent remembered.

“Villains are just as capable of resurrection and reincarnation as their heroic foils. These demons take on many forms. They have been reborn many times throughout the centuries. Before she became a predatory succubus posing as Rapunzel’s foster mother, Gothel was the stepmother of the fairest maiden in the land. You heard that correctly, Your Majesty. The witch with an enchanted garden and a green thumb was once a green-eyed monarch with a murderous lust and an iron fist which she used to rule her kingdom.”

Maleficent’s mind slowly processed what the sorcerer was trying to tell her. 

“So Gothel and Regina are the same woman?” the Dark Queen of Fairies realized. 

“Exactly.” 

“I should have killed her when I had the chance.” 

“Revenge sounds plausible, but you must know that is not a mother’s place to kill her children, no matter how wicked and spiteful they are. The higher powers of the universe are the ultimate judges, juries, and executioners of mankind. They are the ones to decide who must be rewarded, punished, or disciplined in this world.” 

“The great minds of deities and fairies do indeed think alike,” Maleficent remarked. 

“The story of Gothel is not unlike other parables of lustful pride and narcissistic debauchery. What mortals refer to as a fairy tale is considered history in this universe. These histories are documented within the pages of each and every storybook within this library. The Brothers Grimm, Hans Christian Andersen, Giambattista Basile, Charles Perrault, Mother Goose, and other Authors who came before me have utilized their literary magic to document these legendary battles of good and evil, love and hatred, and other conflicted opposites.”

“Do the Authors turn fiction into reality or does reality become translated into fantasy?” Maleficent wondered.

“They accomplish both. Sometimes, fairy tales function as prophecies, other times the fabled characters, events, or locations from these stories are proven to be based in reality. An example is Neverland. The island and its false monarch existed centuries before J. M. Barrie was born.” 

“So the character of Peter Pan predates the events of his own story?” the Dark Queen of Fairies asked.

“That is precisely what I’m saying. The chicken before the egg, if you will.”

“What about Hansel and Gretel?” Maleficent replied.

“Hansel and Gretel’s story was published in _Grimm’s Fairy Tales_ in 1812. One-hundred-and-seventy-one years later, their story came true, but the ending was different. The woodcutter and the stepmother were eaten by the children. The Blind Witch adopted them. Everybody lived happily ever after.”

“It’s a Grimm world after all,” I chuckled.

“What about me?” Maleficent replied.

“Let’s see,” Merlin sighed, consulting the book titled _Heroes and Villains_. “Your parents were Hermia and Lysander of Athenian fame. They were a pair of star-crossed lovers who gave birth to you, the Mistress of Evil. Your parents were killed by Pan during his genocidal takeover of Neverland which resulted in you being overthrown and exiled to the Tri-Kingdom Area. He viewed the members of your species as ungodly which is why he destroyed as many of your kind as he could. Pan wanted to cleanse the realm.”

“I’m glad that the immature, tight-wearing bastard is dead. He was a monster.”

“Genocide is the worst demon of them all.”

The Dark Queen of Fairies got up from the sofa to examine the bookshelves that dominated the walls of the library. She recognized titles such as _Tarzan_ , _Lady and the Tramp_ , _101 Dalmatians_ , _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ , _Treasure Planet_ , and other classics which had been adapted into cartoons by a certain film company named after an Author who had been dead for fifty-four years. She was one of their popular stars. However, her role as the Fairy Godmother of Cinderella was bastardized when her goddaughter’s story was chosen to be turned into a full-length feature film, since the directors could not comprehend the idea of a multi-faceted villain displaying the traits of kindness and compassion to a maidservant-turned-princess. She wasn’t angry. Just indifferent. This wasn’t the first time that she had been portrayed as the villain in another woman’s story. Perrault and Grimm had already beaten that dead horse plenty of times. She recognized the fact that not all stories were expected to be faithful to the source material. Certain elements of the plot needed to be changed in order to appeal to the appropriate audience that the story was being presented to. 

“Am I a demon?” Maleficent asked. 

“No, Your Majesty,” Merlin replied. “You are a dragon. A wickedly beautiful dragon.”

“The most badass dragon in existence,” I remarked. 

Our answers warmed Maleficent’s heart. Being the leader of the Dark Fairies, who were descended from the oldest species of dragons in the world, she knew that hellfire raged within her heart. Dragons were normally depicted as monsters in fairy tales. The only monsters Maleficent had known throughout her life were her daughter, Pan, and Aurora’s father. Fire was her power. Witchcraft was her strength. Her reputation as a fabled villain did not erase the fact that she was far from heartless. Kindness and love were displayed to those she adored. Rapunzel was her surrogate niece. Her goddaughters were Cinderella and Aurora. Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather were also on good terms with the Mistress of Evil. Certain mortals in the Land Without Magic remained unaware that a villain could be loved by heroes and feared by their enemies. These who were the same people who told their children that reality wasn’t a fairy tale. They were wrong. Fairy tales weren’t written in black and white ink. Life was as dark and cruel as it was magical and wonderful. Villains could be morally complex while heroes could easily succumb to the dark side. Sidekicks could quickly become the enemies of their former friends. Not everybody was inherently good or bad. Heroes and monsters were made, not born. That was how reality functioned. That was the world in which Maleficent lived. 


	2. Fantasyland

I sat upright in my bed, reading the sixth volume of _Once Upon A Time_ by myself. The stories within the pages of this storybook were more factual than fictional. What was considered a bedtime story, myth, or legend in another world was a historical documentation in this realm. It wasn’t easy being the twenty-year-old Apprentice of the one-hundred-and-forty-six-year-old Sorcerer who turned a boy into a man by crowning him as the Once and Future King of Camelot. The Rabbi was my fatherly but strict tutor. I was his subservient student. As I thought of making a brisket-and-pepperoni sandwich for breakfast, I heard a knock on my door. I answered the door. A thirty-one-year-old woman with pale skin, ebony hair, and red lips walked into the room. She wore a black-and-white gown that appeared to be straight out of the Middle Ages. 

“Snow White? Is that you?” I wondered.

The unexpected guest didn’t answer. She handed a Granny Smith apple to me. Part of me wanted to taste the apple. My inner child told my twenty-year-old self not to take a bite. I didn’t listen to him.

"Is this a magic wishing apple?" I asked myself. 

The mysterious visitor didn't answer. There was only one way for me to find out if this apple was poisoned or not. One bite and I was out like a light. Twenty minutes later, I opened my eyes and awakened to find myself sitting on an old-fashioned bed in the attic of a Victorian manor. Hanging from hooks on the walls were buckets, brooms, and the ragged, distressed garments that maidservants of the lower class usually wore. The environment reminded me of Cinderella’s castle from the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World. I heard footsteps of high-heeled shoes clicking across the floor as they were headed to my room. The door opened to reveal Cinderella standing in the doorway. She carried my co-Author in her arms.

“Hello, Cindy,” I said.

“Hello, Robert,” Cinderella replied.

I felt as if my inner child had died and gone to the Fantasyland version of Heaven.

“What’s Drew doing here?” I asked.

“He’s being babysat by me.”

I waved at my companion. Drew covered his eyes. He was wearing a rose-themed diaper under a pink-and-blue onesie with the words “Little Prince in Training (Pants)” printed on his chest. 

“He’s adorable,” I remarked.

“He sure is,” Cinderella replied.

“What’s with his royal getup?” I asked. 

“Well, Belle dressed him, and he’s upset right now.” 

“Aren’t you his babysitter?” I argued.

“I’m his friend.”

“That doesn’t mean that babysitters can’t be friends with the older children they care for.”

“I know,” Cinderella laughed. “Do you mind following us downstairs? I’ve got a special surprise for you.”

I smiled at Cinderella. I was the sort of man who enjoyed surprises. I willingly followed the French princess down the spiral staircase and into the living room of the manor. What I saw rendered me speechless. Standing around the sofa where the baby-faced and doe-eyed Princess of Pampers rested were the heroines whose stories had been documented within the storybooks of Merlin's enchanted library. I recognized the smiling faces of Snow White, Cinderella, Aurora, Alice, Ariel, Belle, Charlotte, Tiana, and Moana. Their respective princes, friends, and sidekicks included the Seven Dwarfs, Maleficent, Diablo, Hansel and Gretel, Bruno, Gus and Jaq, Flora, Fauna, Merryweather, Pascal, the Beast, Lumiere and Cogsworth, Prince Naveen, Adira, Lance Strongbow, Eugene Fitzherbert, Queen Anna of Arendelle, Elsa the Snow Queen, and Maui. 

“Holy fucking shit!” I cried out.

“He speaks,” Snow White announced.

The cast members applauded the fact that I was conscious. Half of them were concerned that I had cursed in front of them.

“Are you alright?” Belle asked.

“Where am I?” I asked.

“You are in the manor of Cinderella’s deceased stepmother,” Tiana replied. 

“I’m in the Manoir de Tremaine?” I asked.

“The one and only,” Cinderella replied.

“This is where Cindy used to work as the formerly diapered maidservant of Lady Tremaine and her daughters,” Rapunzel said. 

“But she’s not a slave anymore,” Naveen argued. “Now that she’s happily married to me and Tiana, she’s free from her mistress.”

“I know.”

The realization of my situation slowly began to sink in. The apple wasn’t poisoned. It was a transportation spell disguised as a seemingly innocent snack.

“Now wait just a clock tick,” I said. 

“What’s the matter?” Cinderella asked. 

“Did Snow White send me here?” I replied.

“Guilty as charged,” Snow White replied.

“Does this mean that I’m in the Grimm World once more?" I wondered.

"I beg your pardon?" Lumiere asked.

"The Grimm World? A darker, edgier, semi-fetishistic, and expansive but not overtly pessimistic alternative universe where twisted fairy tales, myths, and legends are entangled together into one massive multi-player crossover of epic proportions?” 

“Yes,” Anna confirmed. 

“Welcome home, Robert,” Tiana remarked.

Cinderella unbuttoned the crotch of Drew’s onesie. She checked his diaper. 

“Looks like someone must have been a heavy naptime wetter,” Naveen’s wife said. 

I smiled and waved at Maleficent. She waved back at me.

“Would you like to see my diaper?” Rapunzel asked.

“I’m not sure that Robert wants to see your Pampers,” the Beast objected.

  
  
“What are you talking about? I diapered her in the first place,” I argued. 

“You did?” Snow White asked.

“Yes, I did. There’s nothing wrong with Rapunzel’s choice in undergarments. Besides, she’s adorable.”

“Didn’t she have a former hobby of scalping her enemies?” Tiana remembered. 

“That was an old story.”

Tiana turned around and glared at her four-foot-five companion. Rapunzel pouted, slowly backing away from her friend. 

“Half of these heroes and sidekicks that are here right now are people who haven’t even been introduced in any of my stories yet,” I realized. 

“Is that a problem?” Lumiere asked.

“More like a situation,” Cogsworth replied.

“That’s the same thing,” the Beast pointed out. 

“Why am I here?” I demanded. 

“Because you are one of the Authors who clings to the sacred folklore of European scholars. You are the Grimm Scribe of twisted tales as old as time and songs as old as rhyme," Belle replied.

"It’s your duty as an Author to write down our stories and create portals into our worlds,”” Rapunzel told me.

“This isn't a dream? Right? Are you real?” I asked.

“Of course we are!” Snow White giggled. 

“Are you telling the truth?”

“We are,” the Beast replied. 

“Alright, if you say so.”

Rapunzel smiled as she crawled toward me, sucking on her strawberry pacifier. She wore a lavender-and-gold minidress with gigot sleeves and pink thigh-high stockings. Her five-foot-long golden hair was worn in ringlets instead of her traditional French braid. The Queen’s daughter climbed into my arms and hugged me tightly.

“Also, with your co-writer, you can do great things together,” Her Highness said, tickling me.

I patted Rapunzel on the back. It felt pleasurable to be reunited with my favorite Princess of Pampers once more. Whatever this was, it was everything except a fever dream. This was my reality. My Grimm reality. My mind refused to succumb to Rapunzel’s playful charms, but my erection dared to disagree. Her high-pitched voice was musical. It also didn’t help that she spoke in an Australian accent. The canonically underage princesses covered their eyes and looked away. The Beast escorted them out of the room so that only the grown-ups remained. 

“You always were a good girl,” I replied to Rapunzel. 

“Am I better than Gothel?” Rapunzel asked.

“Seriously? Gothel’s got nothing on you. You are the sunshine in my life. You make me feel wanted when others made me feel worthless.”

“How long has Robert been an Author?” the Beast asked.

“I’ve been an Author and Narrator for as long as I can remember,” I realized.

“Don’t you see? You were born with the gift of literary magic for a reason,” Rapunzel said to me. 

“Are my stories good?” I replied.

“Your stories are wonderful. You have a special talent and a creative mind.”

“However, you do have a tendency to get stuck in a rut at times,” Belle admitted. 

“I also help,” Drew added meekly. 

“I know,” I replied to Drew. 

I knew what the French princess was talking about. Rapunzel had been mentioned, referenced, and appeared in eight of my documented stories so far. I seriously needed to take a break from her. She was my greatest blessing and my worst curse. 

“I love you,” Rapunzel said.

“I love you more,” I replied.

“I love you most.”

“Are you okay with being diapered?” I asked Rapunzel.

“Are you kidding me? I love being diapered! I feel so carefree since they symbolize the stolen childhood that I’ve reclaimed from Gothel when I was the enslaved prisoner in her tower. Nothing pampers a princess like me more than Pampers Cruisers. These diapers of mine are the cushiest, snuggest, fluffiest, stretchiest, and thickest pieces of heaven between my legs. I love them in the same way that I love you and my Mommy. They bring me comfort and protection.” 

Out of all the princesses in the fabled pantheon, Rapunzel was one of my personal favorite heroines. She had been one of my special interests for ten years. 

“Do you miss me?” Rapunzel asked, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” I replied. 

“I’m not saying that I’m not flirting with you. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see you so I can do something for you, since there are many things I’ve always dreamed of doing with you but haven’t done in such a long time.”

Her Highness wiggled her butt from side to side before performing a pelvic thrust. It appeared to me that her diapered dance had been updated over the past twenty-five years to involve some sultry new moves. She flashed a warm smile at me. I giggled as she popped her strawberry pacifier into her mouth. I watched her suck on it as if she was performing oral intercourse on a charming prince. I couldn’t help having my heart warmed and melted by her cuteness. Having her as the love of my life was like spending time with my favorite child. Who needed Eugene Fitzherbert when you had an autistic writer and the plus-sized sister of a Norwegian monarch to keep the Princess of Pampers happy? We loved her. She loved us. With her consent, I undressed her, and I reached between her legs. Rapunzel wiggled her hips around as her five-inch-thick diaper was lovingly squeezed by her bodyguard’s hand. Her wife watched as we kissed and cuddled one another. 

“Are you jealous, Anna?” I teased smugly.

“Just a little,” Anna replied. 

Drew blushed as he watched Rapunzel dancing in my arms. He wanted to have his favorite princess be his caregiver, but he knew that Belle’s heart belonged to the Beast. He always loved to help me bring my fantasies to life. 

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered to Rapunzel. 

Removing her strawberry pacifier from her mouth, the childishly bubbly twenty-eight-year-old Princess of Pampers babbled and cooed, sucking on her thumb. Her emerald eyes seduced me with their seductive allure that was once an innocent child’s gaze. Gothel had stolen her youth and her childhood. Queen Arianna returned her baby girl to the nursery where she belonged. She was a grown-up child who couldn’t have asked for a happier ending than being given the power to make the clock reverse and bring back what once was hers. She was the magical golden flower in a field of thorny roses and venomous weeds. Though, to be fairly truthful, I had always envisioned her as being autistic before diapering her. Rapunzel stared down at my pants. She asked me if I would like to be undressed by her hands. I consented to her horny wish. I removed my sweatpants. The Princess of Pampers tore open the front of my shirt, rubbing her hands against my nipples. She was as exactly as I remembered her. Sporting colorful flowers in her braided five-foot-long rope of golden hair and a pair of Size 6 Pampers Cruisers, my little princess was the image of playful seduction. I closed my eyes. She continued to kiss me.

“Want to take this to my nursery?” Rapunzel asked. 

“You bet I do.”

Instantly, with the snap of my fingers, I transported Anna, Rapunzel, and Drew to the royal nursery in the central Palace of Corona. I gently laid her down in her crib. Wiggling around in her crib, Rapunzel stared up at her mobile, sucking on her thumb and smiling as her caregivers watched over her. King Fredric, Queen Arianna, and Queen Anna of Arendelle adored their small and precious Adult-Baby princess.

“She’s so cute,” Queen Arianna remarked.

“And playful,” Anna replied. 

Over the course of three years, the kingdom of Corona had been restored to its former glory thanks to Maleficent after it was destroyed by the hatred and bigotry of the Puritanical crowd. Rapunzel was kept safe and sound from the kink-shaming demons who dared to wish harm upon her childlike soul. Anna checked Rapunzel’s diaper. She was super soggy since last night. 

“Does my baby girl need to be changed?” Rapunzel’s wife asked.

“No,” Rapunzel replied, shaking her head. 

“Are you sure? Those bulky Pampers appear to be pretty swollen to me.” 

“I love it when my super soggy diapers become swollen,” Rapunzel declared.

“I know, little one, but we need to get you cleaned and dolled up. It’s your Nanny’s birthday today.”

“Really?” Rapunzel asked.

“I’m telling the truth. Now let’s get that diaper changed.”

“Okay, Anna.” 

I watched as Rapunzel was carried from her crib to the changing table. She grabbed her Pascal doll and held him, giggling as she was laid down, her head resting against a heart-shaped pillow. The tapes of her diaper came undone. Her genitalia and butt were gently given a rubdown with wet wipes. I was lucky that she was soggy and not messy. If she had a messy diaper, I would have vomited at the sight of her excrement, and there would have been two royal messes to be cleaned up. 

“Hold still, honey,” Anna said, grabbing a fresh diaper from underneath the changing table. “I’m almost finished.”

The princess smiled as her wife kissed her belly. Wrapped snugly around her waist was a fresh, clean diaper. She loved that her Pampers were twelve inches thick.

“Thanks, Anna,” Rapunzel said, hugging her wife.

“You’re welcome, my beautiful baby girl.”

The thirty-three-year-old Queen of Huggies cradled the twenty-eight-year-old Princess of Pampers in her arms. The two wives kissed each other’s foreheads. They had gone through societal Hell during the years they had spent together as lovers with a consensual bond. Anna squeezed Rapunzel’s diaper. Rapunzel moaned as she rubbed her padded crotch. Queen Arianna answered the door. 

“Hello, Your Majesty,” Wendy said, walking into the nursery. “Where’s your baby girl?”

“Here I am!” Rapunzel cried out. 

Rapunzel smiled as her caregiver rushed over towards the childlike princess to embrace her. Formerly the temporary Mommy of Her Highness, Wendy Moira Angela Darling had been promoted as the official Nanny in the royal household after Rapunzel’s birth parents returned from the afterlife to rebuild their kingdom and reunite with their married daughter. 

“Happy Birthday, Nana!” Anna and Rapunzel cheered.

“Thanks, Your Majesties,” Wendy replied. “It’s been an honor for me to be a member of your royal family.” 

“How old are you?” I asked.

“I’m seventy-nine. I’m an old woman.”

“Not as old as Gothel,” I laughed. “If she was alive, she would be ninety-nine years older than you.”

Rapunzel ignored my idiotic joke. 

“You’ve done a good job of caring for me and changing my diapers,” the Queen’s daughter replied. “You’re the best Nanny I could have asked for.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Darling.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Here are the ages of the Disney Princesses from the Grimm World in order from youngest to oldest: Moana (20), Rapunzel (28), Tiana (30), Anna (33), Belle (50), Ariel (47), Alice (76), Aurora (77), Wendy (79), Cinderella (89), and Snow White (97).**


	3. Unconventional Playmate of the Everlasting Child at Heart

The King and Queen of Corona descended downstairs to celebrate Wendy’s birthday in the throne room of the palace. I stayed in the nursery with Rapunzel, Drew, and Anna to keep them company. I summoned Belle so she could act as a caregiver for my co-Author. Drew was sitting in Rapunzel’s crib. He wanted the love and care that Rapunzel was receiving from me. Belle walked over to the crib, picked Drew up, and cradled him in her arms as she sang a French lullaby to him. 

“Belle? What are you doing here? I thought you were with the Beast?” Drew asked.

“I brought Belle here so she could care for you as your babysitter,” I replied.

“But won’t the Beast be angry with me?” Drew worried.

“You’ll be fine,” I assured him. 

Drew became so scared that he soaked his diaper out of fear. Meanwhile, Anna’s wife was bored. 

“Would any of you like to play with me?” Rapunzel offered.

Anna and I drew straws at which person would be the first to play with Her Highness. I was the one who ended up spending playtime with Rapunzel. Conjuring a water balloon, I handed the toy to Rapunzel, who stuffed it into her diaper. She enjoyed how bulgy her padding had become. Sitting down on the floor with the Princess of Pampers in my lap, I gently grabbed her by the wrists, kissing her forehead. She bounced up and down. I snapped my fingers. Her diaper took on a life of its own. While her Pampers Cruisers wiggled and jiggled between her legs, my mind grew curious as to whether I should undress her, fondle her, sleep with her, or continue playing around with her. I watched as Belle carried Drew over to the changing table. Once his diaper was changed, he was set down in the midst of our circle. My companion was happy to have playtime with his friends.

“Be careful, little babe,” I whispered to Her Highness. “Don’t let that balloon pop.”

“Pop goes the diaper!” Rapunzel giggled. 

Anna, Drew, and I laughed together, watching Rapunzel as she popped the balloon within her diaper. 

“What am I to you?” I asked Rapunzel.

“What do you mean?” Rapunzel replied.

“Am I your surrogate father? Your lover? Your protector?”

“You are my bodyguard.” 

“Am I a bodyguard as well?” Drew asked.

“You’re my sidekick,” I answered.

Drew crossed his arms. He pouted at Rapunzel. Belle sat down between me and Anna. Rapunzel asked me if I was a prince. I revealed to her my identity as a young man of common birth. I was the autistic student of the almighty Jewish tutor known as Rabbi Merlin. I was the Author and the Narrator. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, as the job title was more commonly known.

“Are you Jewish?” Anna wondered.

“I’m not Jewish. I’m not even religious in the cultural or spiritual sense. I’m an open-minded atheist.”

“So am I,” Rapunzel confessed.

Rapunzel kissed Drew on the cheek. He blushed. 

“That was nice, Rapunzel,” I said.

“Since when am I not nice?” Rapunzel replied.

“When you’re scalping your enemies.”

“That’s true,” Rapunzel admitted.

I chuckled as the Queen’s daughter began smacking the front of her diaper. She was such a unique cutie pie. The overgrown baby daughter of Her Majesty was the lantern illuminating the darkness that had all but consumed my former life in the Land Without Magic. I wrapped her arms around her. I wanted to protect and shelter her. I felt about her in the same way that her birth parents did. She was the love of Anna’s life. My precious baby and her partner’s wife. She squealed as I gave her diapered crotch a playful smack. Her emerald eyes stared into mine. I was a brown werewolf of mixed heritage, with dark chocolate eyes and black hair. My appearance wasn’t the typical idea of attractiveness. She was a fair-skinned princess with emerald eyes, five feet of golden blonde hair, and a beautiful smile that matched with her childlike but formerly innocent heart. I asked her to sing for me. The diapered soprano sang another one of her wordless lullabies that enticed the birds of the forest with its angelic melody. More conservative, close-minded, and socially hostile communities such as the Puritan parents of Corona would have shuddered at the thought of an infantilized but fully-grown princess who lived in her nursery and roleplayed as a baby while maintaining an adult sense of maturity mixed with playfully alternative sexuality. I thought she was adorably breathtaking. She was beautiful. I was monstrous. I would have happily traded my soul to Dr. Facilier in exchange for spending the rest of my days as the personal Prince Charming of Rapunzel. 

“Does my little baby want a snack?” I growled. 

Rapunzel gasped as I withdrew a sack of miniature blackberry pastries from the pocket of my trousers. She grabbed them from me and opened the sack, stuffing the sweets into her mouth, not bothering to thank me. I wasn’t angry with her. Just disappointed. Anna was annoyed. 

“Rapunzel!”

The Princess of Pampers whimpered as her eyes met the pissed-off expression on her wife’s face. 

“When somebody gives you something, what do we say?” the Queen of Huggies demanded. 

“Thank you,” Rapunzel replied. 

I smiled at the princess.

“You’re welcome.”

I patted Rapunzel on the head. She held onto me like a small child clinging to her prized teddy bear. I heard her whimpering as she unleashed a massive load into the seat of her diaper. I had laced the pastries with the strongest laxatives known to peasantry or royalty. Her diaper stretched and thickened. The padding expanded outward between her legs as it sagged all the way down to her little toes. She was powerless against their magic. The poor baby had dumped her diapers. I handed a fresh diaper and wet wipes to her. She went into her walk-in closet to change herself. I waited for five minutes until she returned. Rapunzel sat back down in my lap as if her defecation never happened. Her childhood was a tragic tale of perverse obsession, abusive parenting, and sacrificial romance. She had grown from a prisoner into a survivor. I was proud of the fighter she became. 

“Where exactly are you from?” Anna asked me.

“You’re asking the Sorcerer’s Apprentice?” I laughed. “If you want an honest answer, all you need to know about me is that I come from the Land Without Magic, just like all the other peasants who have immigrated to the fabled kingdoms in order to work to earn their daily bread. I’m an orphan without a home. A rebel without rhyme or reason.” 

“You could be my lover,” Rapunzel suggested to me in the form of a whisper. 

“I know, baby girl, but you already have a spouse.”

“You don’t have to be my spouse. You can be one of my caregivers. We can have lots of playtime together.”

Belle carried Drew off to Rapunzel’s crib and placed him inside for the remainder of the afternoon.

“If you don’t mind, I have an idea,” Anna said to Rapunzel and me.

“What’s your idea?” Rapunzel asked.

“Robert and Drew could pleasure your Pampers tonight. They can make you sticky and wet.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Rapunzel cheered, giggling and clapping her hands.

I smiled at my little princess. Tonight was going to be a good night indeed. 


	4. Diapered Beauties and Sexy Beasts

Our romantic playtime commenced that night. In the sanctuary of her nursery, Rapunzel cuddled with her puppy-sized Pascal doll as Drew and I were vigorously prepared to take turns pleasuring her diapered crotch. Her legs were spread open, acting as a gateway for us to enter into her personal paradise. The submissive, fun-loving, thumb-sucking Princess of Pampers was undoubtedly thirsty for physical pleasure and affection from somebody other than her wife. She was under our spell. 

“You can go first,” Drew said to me. “I’m not ready yet.”

I grabbed onto Rapunzel’s padding, giving it a firm but loving squeeze. I began to pleasure her. While her sexually active body entered the process of producing the warm, wet, and sticky juices of pleasure which were contained inside of her diaper through absorption, she gasped and moaned as if she was being anally penetrated by the manhood of Eugene himself. Her padding crinkled as it was slowly and gently rubbed by my hairy, brown hands. She kept staring at me with those emerald eyes of hers. I did my best attempt at a monstrous chortle. She whimpered and continued sucking on her thumb like a good girl. That diaper fastened thickly and snugly around her waist appeared to be close to bursting with the amount of fluids it contained. Rapunzel had refused to eat this evening. Her dinner came in the form of chocolate milk, orange Italian ice, and seven baby bottles of freshly squeezed, pulp-free lemonade. May the Gods and Goddesses of the universe be damned if her Pampers Cruisers overflowed. 

“You like that?” I asked Rapunzel, playfully poking at her diaper.

Rapunzel nodded. The princess removed her thumb from her mouth. She stared down at her bloated diaper. 

“You’ve done a good job.”

“A good job? Doing what?” Her Highness asked.

“You filled up that diaper. It’s super full.” 

Licking her lips, Rapunzel reached between her legs, firmly squeezing her saturated padding. The diaper became thicker upon being smacked by its wearer. Whether it was her childlike personality or her diaper fetish, I could not tell which excited me more, for she had always been my one true love. She made me happy. I made her feel wanted. 

“Does my full diaper make you horny?” Rapunzel asked, speaking to me in a babyish voice. 

To deny my arousal was to disappoint the Queen’s daughter. I was turned on but indifferent as well. 

“It’s just a diaper,” I replied. 

“Does it bother you?” Rapunzel worried.

“No, sweetie, it doesn’t bother me. You look cute in them. They fit nicely and match your personality. Clothes should always fit the character. That’s what the Sorcerer always told me.”

Rapunzel blushed. She giggled and smiled, flashing her buck teeth at me. I often wondered why she was born to be this adorable. A princess with such maximum levels of cuteness was a precious cinnamon roll of sunshine who was too good and pure for this world.

“What happened to the previous Apprentices?” Rapunzel asked.

“They were turned into mice and killed by the Black Fairy,” I replied. 

“What were their names?” Rapunzel wondered.

“The first Apprentice was an elderly knight named Michael Timothy Patrick Verchere. He was the oldest Author that I ever knew. The second man whom Merlin employed was a struggling Ashkenazi writer from New York. His name was Isaac Fischler Heller.” 

“Who’s the Black Fairy?”

“She was the mother of the Dark Crocodile aka Rumplestiltskin.”

“Peter Pan’s wife was the mother of the Crocodile?”

“Trust me, I also think it’s weird, but sometimes the weirdest facts are the ones with the most truth in them.” 

“Are you a monster like that old Crocodile?” Rapunzel replied.

I looked up and caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I was not truly monstrous. I knew that I was an autistic Author whose disabled identity was misunderstood and abused by mainstream society. This universe’s version of Rapunzel was an Adult-Baby dwarf who happened to be autistic and incontinent. I decided to answer the Queen’s daughter’s question as gently and carefully as I could. 

“We are not monsters. We are not freaks. We are not abominations. We are a pair of outcasts whom nobody truly understands. We are strange creatures with special minds. We are grown-up children created in the image of the divine beings who rule the universe and watch over mankind. We are different but the same. You are my beautiful baby. I am an autistic beast who was shunned by God and born into a dark, cruel world inhabited by the socially insane demons of uninhibited bigotry.”

Rapunzel sat upright, placing her hands on my face. She looked into my eyes. She didn’t see a monster. She saw a lonely man who concealed his true nature behind the mask of a reclusive beast to hide the fact that he was an outsider in need of love. I saw a twenty-eight-year-old baby who had been kidnapped, enslaved, brainwashed and abused by that damned witch who murdered her innocence and raped her childhood by posing as her foster mother. The witch known as Gothel. The pronunciation of the demon’s name left a bitter taste in my mouth. I wrapped my arms around Rapunzel’s waist and held onto her tightly. She checked her diaper. I knew how much she enjoyed being wet. 

“Why are you holding me like that?” Rapunzel asked.

“Because I wish to protect you,” I replied.

“Why do you wish to protect me?”

“Because I’m your biggest fan.”

“Why are you my biggest fan?” Rapunzel wondered.

“Because I love you.”

“Why do you love me?”

My response to Rapunzel was that my love for her came from the fact that she was the babiest baby to end all babies. Not unlike an actual baby, she had lots of love to give to her family members, and she was rarely judgmental. I treasured her as if she was my own daughter. My sweet child. And yet, in my own twisted way, I was aroused by her. I didn’t always feel this way whenever I was around her. Basically, my feelings about Rapunzel were complicated. She made me happy but also vaguely horny. I did not feel discomfort from my attraction to her. I simply pretended not to feel like a freak compared to the beautiful princess whom I was playing around with in the nursery. I didn’t care that she needed to wear diapers. Being diapered was nothing to be ashamed of. I personally didn’t wear them, but I applauded the existence of any disabled person who did, and I hoped they gained the confidence they needed to survive. 

“Am I a good girl?” Rapunzel asked.

“You’re the best girl in the world,” I replied.

“Am I truly the best girl if I can’t leave my diapers alone?”

“There’s nothing wrong with taking pleasure in being diapered. You are adorable.” 

I gave Rapunzel belly rubs and diaper pats. She kissed me on the cheek. I was familiar with the various retellings and interpretations of her respective fairy tale. I had always adored her. Though most versions of Rapunzel’s story agreed that she was an innocent and naive maiden who was sheltered throughout her childhood by an overprotective control freak acting as her mother, she was only depicted as a diaper-clad Adult-Baby in fan-made artwork that was created by a certain fetish community from an artistic website that can easily be found on the dark side of the Internet. In this realm, the fetishistic fantasy was reality, and the reality was weirdly charming. The rubbing had extended from her belly to the front of her cushy Pampers Cruisers. 

“Does Her Highness need a new diaper?” I asked. 

“Yes, please.”

I laid Rapunzel down on the carpeted floor beside her crib. Closing my eyes, I undid the tapes of her diaper, grabbed some wet wipes, and proceeded to change her. In five minutes, the Princess of Pampers was freshly diapered, kissed, and cuddled by yours truly. Holding her in my arms, I wished for her to sleep safely and soundly, and fell asleep, knowing that the princess had found companionship with an ally of her wife. Queen Anna didn’t just know me as the Narrator, the Author, or the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. She knew me as her partner’s bodyguard. Her devoted protector. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **What my self-insert Fursona said about diapers and disability is true. There's nothing wrong with needing to wear diapers as a disabled person. Also, my decision for my Fursona to be a werewolf wasn't unintentional, since my autistic ass loves werewolves and the fantasy genre. I chose to portray my fictionalized self as a sexy but angst-ridden beast because werewolves and autistic people have similar issues when it comes to decent representation in media. Disabled people are rarely portrayed as desirable, heroic, romantic, or altogether human, since they are monsters in the eyes of the bigoted and misinformed.**


	5. Sharing the Love

I awoke the next morning with the strangest craving for grilled chicken-and-cheese sandwiches, sliced oranges, and celery sticks. Rapunzel woke up next to me. She blew me a kiss. I smiled and hugged her. 

“Did my little Goldilocks sleep well?” I asked.

“I slept like a baby angel,” Rapunzel replied.

“I’m sure you did.”

Rapunzel’s wife walked into the nursery. 

“Good morning, Robert, Drew, and Rapunzel,” the Queen of Huggies said.

“Good morning, Anna,” Rapunzel and I replied.

Dressed in a hooded crop top of crimson suede and wearing red-and-black gingham booty shorts over her chubby Huggies, the Norwegian princess-turned-monarch had mixed her inner Red Riding Hood with Pooh Bear. She carried two baby bottles of chocolate milk and a picnic basket which contained my desired breakfast. 

“Good morning, Anna,” Drew said as he awakened, trying not to look at Anna’s Huggies.

Anna placed the basket on the table beside the crib and handed the food to the occupants of the room. I offered my sandwiches to Rapunzel. She declined, taking half of my celery and oranges instead.

“You should’ve brought some chocolate,” I remarked.

“I wasn’t in the mood,” Anna replied.

“What a shame,” Rapunzel sighed. 

“Why do you look so disappointed?” I asked.

“My wife’s sweet tooth is sweeter than mine.”

Anna sat down in a rocking chair beside her wife’s crib. She rocked back and forth, relaxing herself as she smirked at me. 

“Why is your wife smiling at me like that?” I asked Rapunzel.

“Because she fancies you,” Rapunzel answered. 

“Why does she fancy me?”

“Because you look like a total snack,” Anna revealed.

“A snack? I’m hardly a full-on meal.”

Anna licked her lips and howled playfully. Rapunzel giggled. I blushed, my cheeks turning red. I had never been seen as attractive by a woman before. In fact, never in my life had I been viewed as potentially desirable by anyone, not even a princess or her wife. This was a new experience. For the first time in forever, true love had found me, and she came in the form of another woman’s partner. As I devoured my sandwiches and observed Rapunzel eating her share of our morning meal, Anna pulled the hood of her cloak over her eyes in case that we decided to get sexual. I was amused by her adorable awkwardness. Turning my attention back to Rapunzel, I noticed that she was wearing her pink-and-white bib, her diaper, and pink-and-purple striped stockings. She had undressed herself before going to bed last night. 

“You look cute,” I remarked. 

“Really?” Rapunzel asked. 

“I speak the truth.”

Rapunzel hugged me after finishing her breakfast. I was a sucker for warm hugs. I knew that my little Goldilocks had lots of love to give and share with those she trusted with all of her heart. I wrapped my arms around her torso. I wished to never let go of her. She was perfect. Not too short. Not too chunky. Not too lean. Just right. 

“Sharing the love, I see?” Anna chuckled.

“Do you care to join us?” Rapunzel replied.

“Sorry, sweetie, but I can’t. I’m going hunting for edible mushrooms and flowers in the western woods this morning.”

“You’re going hunting in a crop top and booty shorts? Wouldn’t you freeze?” I argued. 

To answer my question, Anna reached inside her diaper, pulling out a long-sleeved, tea-length gown of bright red suede. 

“That’s why I have this handy garment to wear over this outfit. It’s got long sleeves and a snug fit. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, Anna,” I replied. “It’s your body. Your choice.” 

“Do you promise to take care of my wife while I’m gone?” the Queen of Huggies asked.

“Yes, I promise. Rapunzel will be fine with me, Belle, and Drew as her caregivers.”

Anna walked over to me and knelt down, kissing her wife’s forehead. 

“Do you promise to be a good baby girl for Robert and Drew while I’m busy with errands?” the Queen of Huggies whispered to her partner. 

“I’ll be a good baby girl,” Rapunzel promised.

“She’s in good hands,” I assured Rapunzel’s wife.

“Bye, bye, Anna!” Rapunzel giggled.

After she dressed herself in her gown, Anna grabbed her basket, summoned a stainless steel hatchet, and skipped merrily out of the nursery, acting as if she truly was the grown-up version of Red Riding Hood. I held Rapunzel in my lap as I watched her wife make her cheerful exit. I had many adjectives to personally describe Anna’s pampered spouse. She was small, cuddly, soft, precious, admirable, squeezable, playful, and altogether a unique little lady whom I was fondly protective of. She loved me. I loved her more. She loved me most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The reason that Rapunzel is the Princess of Pampers mainly stems from my fascination with fanart which depicts her as being diapered or an Adult-Baby since I think she's cuter that way. For those who don't know what a dirndl is, they are one of my special interests in terms of fashion. A dirndl is a traditional European style of dress which includes a puff-sleeved or long-sleeved blouse, a bodice, a skirt/pinafore dress, and an apron. Rapunzel wears a dirndl (or a dirndl-inspired dress) in her respective movie. The skirts of dirndls are usually tea-length or knee-length depending on what type of look that the wearer is going for.**


	6. Babysitter

Rapunzel asked me if I wanted to have some playtime with her. I told her that she needed to drink her nutritious breakfast before our playtime began. Rapunzel and Drew drank their chocolate milk from their bottles. I smiled upon hearing Rapunzel burp after she had emptied her bottle. Patting her on the head, I got up from the floor and entered the walk-in closet of the pastel nursery. The contents of her wardrobe could almost be mistaken for those of a small child due to the overall aesthetic. The closet acted as a hideaway for the Queen’s daughter where she kept her adorably fashionable collection of seventeen crop tops, twenty-one off-the-shoulder gowns, thirteen tank tops, twenty-five pairs of thigh-high stockings, twenty-eight onesies, thirty-nine skimpy dirndls, seven pacifier necklaces, eighteen flower crowns, and an entire stash of two-hundred-and-fifty-three five-inch-thick diapers which sometimes thickened themselves to twelve or twenty-four inches at random. She did not wear shoes, pants, or skirts. The Princess of Pampers took her title seriously. Her diapers came in Sizes 7 and 8 since those were the types of Pampers which normally fitted individuals of her stature. I noticed that her stash included Cruisers, Swaddlers, Baby Dry, Splashers, and Underjams. I removed three dirndls from the closet for Her Highness to wear. The first dirndl was pink-and-purple, the second was lavender-and-gold, and the third was peach-and-lavender. I presented the three dresses to Rapunzel. She loved her colorful dirndls as much as she loved her royally cushy diapers. Her emerald eyes widened at the colorful garments. She smiled at me. I asked Her Highness which dirndl she wished to wear. Naturally, Rapunzel pointed to the pink-and-purple-dirndl, since it was her signature outfit. She stripped down to her diaper and stockings. I handed the dirndl to her. She dressed herself, teasing me by twerking or wiggling and jiggling her crotch, since she knew how much I enjoyed her diapered dances. They were Heaven to me. Sitting back down in my lap, Rapunzel requested me to braid her golden hair. I happily obliged. Her locks were woven by my clawed fingertips into eight individual braids which reminded me of dreadlocks. I gave her forehead a kiss. She blushed, giggling with a smile that displayed her buck teeth. Belle picked her up and tossed her into the air like a ball, making sure to catch her every time she came back down. Even though Rapunzel was immortal, I hated seeing her in any sort of danger, since it was my narrative duty to keep her safe. My inner child often wondered why certain parents in the Land Without Magic thought of the Princess Squad as negative role models for their children. The princesses each came from different backgrounds, cultures, and lifestyles. Their personalities were similar but not the same. Back where I came from, although the princesses displayed heroic qualities such as independence and kindness, communities of radical feminists, helicopter parents, and other social groups falsely believed that the heroines of these tales as old as time were nothing more than a traditionally feminine family of domestic damsels and trophy wives who ended up being saved from their situations simply because of their beauty and innocence. There was much more to these women than their beauty. Rapunzel had a rebelliously childlike personality alongside a childhood history of being kidnapped, enslaved, and abused. Belle was an autistic bookworm who stood up to her sexist enemies and helped the handsome Beast to love himself. Tiana was a food-loving workaholic and a realistic dreamer who opened her own restaurant in the dining hall of her husband’s palace. Snow White was an optimistic soprano who defied her murderous stepmother by hiding out in the woods with seven men who cared for her as their surrogate daughter. All four of these women exemplified the fact that inner beauty was anything but skin deep. Unlike the canon universe, Merida, Jasmine, Mulan, and Pocahontas were nowhere to be seen among the members of the Princess Squad, since I had my personal preferences when it came to badass heroines. Jasmine’s story was an Orientalist mess involving a beggar-turned-prince lying and cheating his way into the Sultan’s daughter’s heart. I would also like to point out to my admirers that Pocahontas was a real Native woman with a tragic history who ended up being disrespected and bastardized in the form of an animated musical that romanticized the genocidal colonization of the New World. 

“What are you thinking about?” Rapunzel asked me. 

“My pet peeves,” I replied. 

Belle handed Rapunzel back to me. I snuggled with the Princess of Pampers as we sat together in the nursery. Numbers refused to count how many times we kissed and cuddled each other. We were truly in love. Since both of us were growing bored of being in the nursery, I decided to take Rapunzel out for a walk in the village. The maids who encountered us screamed and ran away from me at the sight of my face. I laughed at their fear as we exited the palace. In case Rapunzel needed to have her Pampers checked or changed, I had packed a diaper bag for her before heading outside. We received concerned glances from half of the villagers. The villagers were Puritanical parents who shielded the eyes of their children from gazing upon the padded posterior of the Queen’s daughter. The entire scene reminded me of the tale of the naked Emperor who paraded through the streets of his empire under the false impression that he was wearing invisible garments that only wise men could see. Of course, Rapunzel was far from nude, and she was a princess, not an empress. As we held hands while slowly walking through the streets, our mileage increased, and Rapunzel began to feel her diaper growing heavy between her legs due to the burdensome load she deposited from within her bowels. Her padded crotch and bottom was the perfect combination of squishy and squeezable. Sadly, this was not the time for fun and games, because one of the parental Puritans approached me. He was a priest from the Church of Corona. 

“May I help you?” I asked.

“Are you the babysitter of Her Highness?” the Reverend asked.

“No, I’m not her babysitter. I’m her caregiver and her lover.”

“An ungodly love this is,” the Reverend gasped.

I rolled my eyes at the priest’s words. The darker, uglier side of Christianity had always been the bane of my existence as an autistic atheist. I decided to listen to his rant before preparing to tear him apart. 

“Do you see this madness, my children? A werewolf making love to this infantile woman? Our Father in Heaven would never allow this to happen in His world. It is our duty as His followers to make an example of those who defy the rules of society and disobey God through the influence of Satan. Jesus would have used His divine powers to smite this beast where he stands.”

“Beast?” I snarled.

“You are a non-white creature of demonic origins. You are not human. You are an animal in the form of a brown man. Animals, demons, and whores of Satan must be punished by children of the Church or through God Himself.”

The words I heard from the priest’s mouth were nothing more than nonsense to my ears. 

“Plus, you are dressed without modesty,” the Reverend said. 

The priest pointed to my outfit. I was dressed in a leather jacket, fingerless gloves of black leather, and a pair of black leather breeches. Worn around my waist was a leather belt containing a scabbard which held a silver sword. Underneath my pants, I wore a leather thong trimmed with grey fur along the edges, adding to my appearance as the neighborhood bad boy.

“I dress like this because it makes me feel sexy.”

“Sexy?” the Reverend scoffed. 

“I’m serious.”

“What a licentious adjective.” 

“Licentious? I beg your pardon?” I growled. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Rapunzel told me. “He’s crazy. He sounds like one of those kink-shaming bigots.” 

Not wishing to start a fight, I followed Rapunzel to an old-fashioned tavern on the outskirts of the village. The tavern we entered was none other than the Snuggly Duckling. All of the thugs, ruffians, and criminals within this adult-oriented establishment glanced up at us from their tables as we walked into the room. Most people who adhered to their sacred duties did their best to avoid the Snuggly Duckling since it represented all of the sins they despised. The tavern was a brothel, a restaurant, a strip club, and a burlesque theatre under one roof. The audience watched as a trio of male strippers in werewolf costumes performed their bestial routine. Rapunzel and I sat down at a table in the back row of the audience. A hook-handed waiter approached our table. 

“Welcome to the Snuggly Duckling,” the waiter said. “How may I serve you this afternoon?”

Unlike normal restaurants, which had menus on the table or menu items featured on the board above the counter where orders were taken, the customers of the Snuggly Duckling thought of what they ordered and had it served to them by the members of the tavern’s staff. However, when we walked into the Snuggly Duckling, I noticed a menu board on the left side of the doorway. 

“What’s for brunch?” I asked. 

“The brunch specials for this afternoon are grilled pepperoni-and-cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, bacon-wrapped bratwurst, and fried chicken livers.”

“What do you want?” I said to Rapunzel.

“May I please have the tomato soup?” Rapunzel requested.

“Your wish is my command, Your Highness,” the waiter replied. 

“What about you?” Rapunzel said to me. 

“I’ll have what she’s having,” I told the waiter.

“Good choice. Your order will be ready in seven hours. Thanks for dining at the Snuggly Duckling. I hope you enjoy your meal.”

“You’re welcome,” Rapunzel giggled. 

As soon as the waiter left our table, I began to converse with Rapunzel about the current status of her diaper. 

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“What?” Rapunzel asked.

I decided to be more specific with my question. 

“How’s that diaper holding up, my little lady?” 

“To be honest, it’s getting pretty stretchy and saggy,” Rapunzel admitted. “All of that poop mixed with pee makes it uncomfortable for sitting in.” 

“Do you want me to change you?” I asked.

“Not right now. I’m a big girl. I can handle a half-full diaper without worrying about needing to be changed by one of my caregivers.”

“I bet that my baby girl’s diaper will eventually be dangerously full to bursting once she’s finished her soup,” I laughed. 

Rapunzel smirked at me. 

“Trust me, big boy, this baby girl and her five-inch-thick stash of self-thickening diapers have been through lots of wetness, messes and two-for-one combos in her lifetime, so she can take care of herself. By the way, after brunch, would you like to change me and visit my tower in the western woods?” 

“Sounds like a plan,” I replied. 

“My diapers are supernaturally durable.”

“I know, honey.” 

“Do you know they’re one of my special interests?” Rapunzel asked.

“I do. You also love food, chameleons, frying pans, and a bunch of other things that would be too much to list.” 

“Did you know that my chameleon is the perfect size for fitting inside my Pampers?” Rapunzel replied.

“He’s naughty and ticklish,” I laughed. 

“I wish he was here right now.”

“I can fix that,” I answered. 

Rapunzel looked over at her left shoulder. Pascal rested beside her, smiling at his companion. Unlike normal chameleons, he was six inches tall, with lime eyes and a vibrant but toothless smile. The princess hugged her chameleon, wiggling around in her highchair. 

“Thank you!” Her Highness giggled. 

“You’re welcome,” I replied. 

“Hello, Robert,” Pascal said.

“Hello, Pascal. How’s life treating you?”

“Life is upside-down around here,” Pascal replied. “Most of the Puritans in the kingdom have learned from their mistakes. They normally stay away from the royal family since Her Majesty and His Majesty came back from the dead. They think that the Devil resurrected them.” 

“It wasn’t the Devil. It was Hades,” I argued. “Most people get those two deities mixed up with each other.” 

“Who’s Hades?” Pascal asked.

“Hades is the King of the Underworld. He’s Persephone’s husband,” Rapunzel replied. 

“What’s the Underworld?” Pascal wondered.

“The Underworld is an underground kingdom that’s located six feet underneath Wonderland. It’s where the souls of the damned and the blessed go after they die.”

“Sounds scary,” Rapunzel replied, wetting her diaper. 

“It’s not scary. It’s interesting. Wonderland is one of my favorite realms.”

“What do you love about Wonderland?” Rapunzel asked.

“I mainly love Wonderland because of Alice. She’s one of my favorite heroines.” 

“But I thought I was your favorite?” Rapunzel whined, crossing her arms and pouting at me. 

“You will always be my baby. Besides, I have plenty of friends on the other side of the Looking Glass.”

“Do you love Alice because we’re both blonde and adventurous?” Rapunzel guessed, smiling as our bowls of tomato soup were placed on the table. 

“How did you guess?” I replied. 

“Well, I figured it’s because of the fact we both go on adventures and have blonde hair.”

I looked down at my silver platter. My soup came with three grilled cheese sandwiches. Rapunzel’s soup did not. The sandwiches were sliced into halves, with the cheese being a mixture of American and Cheddar. I devoured the crusts before eating the sandwiches. After the sandwiches came the soup. The was just right. It wasn’t too hot or too cold. I watched Rapunzel as she slurped her soup like she was drinking from her baby bottle or a sippy cup. She always made sure to wear a bib when dining. Her Highness wasn’t a messy eater, but she was picky when it came to taste and texture. I was a man with similar preferences. It was no secret that I was in love with Rapunzel and that Rapunzel was in love with me. Keep in mind that I wasn’t a cursed prince or a peasant in search of his fortune. I was the Grimm Scribe. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Nothing more. Nothing less.


	7. Following the Yellow Brick Road

After I finished my brunch, I removed myself from the table, lifted Rapunzel from her highchair, and carried her into the restroom of the tavern. I set her down on the changing table. 

“Close your eyes and count to five,” I said. 

Rapunzel closed her eyes along with me and did as I asked of her. I swiftly changed her diaper. She opened her eyes to discover that she had been freshly wiped, pampered, and tickled. I watched as Rapunzel stood up on the changing table. She held hands with me. I stared down at my feet. 

“Do you want to go into the woods now?” I asked.

“Yes, please!” Rapunzel giggled.

I clicked the heels of my silver sneakers together three times in a row and uttered the name of my destination in the form of an Italian spell that the apprentices of sorcerers and wizards utilized as their own form of teleportation. In a flash of light, our group was transported to the labyrinthine depths of the Dark Forest. We were standing in the midst of the northern woods. Four miles away from where we stood was the candy-coated cottage where Hansel, Gretel, and the Blind Witch lived together as a family of cannibalistic butchers and bakers. I looked down at my feet. The road that led through the forest was paved with square bricks. The bricks were golden yellow. I recognized this literary reference. The yellow brick road was the famous pathway from one of many fables which this world alluded to. Colorful vegetation, life-sized flowers, and thirteen-foot-tall trees bordered both sides of the road.

“Where are we?” Rapunzel asked.

“The northern woods,” I replied.

“I remember this part of the forest. Anna and I used to travel here during our outings together.”

“Do you mind if we pay a visit to Miss Braeburn?” I asked.

“I don’t mind at all. She was good to me when I first met her three years ago,” Rapunzel answered. “She fed me, changed me, and treated me as her own granddaughter.” 

“She sounds like a sweet old lady.”

The Queen’s daughter sucked on her thumb as I walked along with her. I remembered Merlin telling me a story about the Italian witch known as Hilda Crane Braeburn. She was a two-hundred-and-nineteen-year-old woman living in the wilderness as a candy-making baker who enjoyed concocting scones, cupcakes, meat pies, donuts, and cookies. She specalized in serving brunches, dinners, and midnight snacks. Her favorite delicacy was the flesh and blood of a fattened priest. Priests were pigs in the baker’s eyes. Once they were captured, she fattened them up to be slaughtered, roasted, and served with a poisoned apple in their mouth. Rumors had spread from the mouths of superstitious Puritans that the Blind Witch ate children. Miss Braeburn would never dare to hurt a child. She only had adults for brunch and dinner. The victims who were invited to dine with her before being dined upon usually consisted of spoiled brats. These spoiled brats turned out to be Puritans, vegans, criminals, and other enemies of witches who ended up getting what they deserved. Originally, the exterior of her cottage was made from bread and cakes. However, since gingerbread and candy were considered to be sweeter in this day and cage, she decided to keep up with the current trends. Only the foolhardy dared to visit the Cannibal Chef in her gingerbread slaughterhouse. Other explorers of the forest stayed away from her. 

“Are we there yet?” Rapunzel asked, lifting up her skirt as we walked along the road.

“Not yet,” I replied. 

I looked back at Rapunzel. Her fully loaded diaper was swinging back and forth of its own accord between her legs, fitting snugly around her waist while sagging down to her toes. I wanted to change her but I also wished to keep my hairy hands away from such a heavily drooping mess. Four miles later, we arrived at the gingerbread house. The roof of the cottage was covered with buttermilk pancakes. Colorful hard candies molded into screaming faces adorned the walls. The window panes that appeared to be made of candy-colored stained glass were translucent sugar. A fence of life-sized lollipops and candy canes grew around the yard of the cottage where gummy bears and licorice worms grew from the branches of trees. Being the sort of man who was constantly hungry, I sampled pieces from the house, crunching and munching on my afternoon snack. As I was eating, the Blind Witch decided to introduce herself to the mouse whom she found nibbling on her house. The occupant of the cottage emerged from the kitchen, using a candy cane as her walking stick. The baker wore a necklace of human bones and gingerbread biscuits. The biscuits were in the shapes of men, pentagrams, butterflies, and hearts. She carried a bloodstained meat cleaver and a frosted meat pie with a severed hand protruding from the crust.

“Hello, dearie,” the Blind Witch said.

“Good afternoon, Miss Braeburn,” I answered. 

“Are you a lost traveler?” the Blind Witch wondered. 

“Actually, I’m the Author,” I replied. 

“Did you bring a friend with you? I sense her presence. She smells of fresh linen and lavender.”

“That’s just the natural scent of my diaper,” Rapunzel admitted. 

“Rapunzel? Is that you?” the Blind Witch asked.

“Yes, it’s her,” I replied. “I came here with the Princess of Pampers herself.”

“Any friend of Rapunzel is a friend of mine. Come inside and have a seat at my table. I have the sweetest of sweet treats to eat.”

The witch took my hand, leading Rapunzel and me into the dining room of her home. I sat down at the table where Gretel enjoyed a splendid meal of fried chicken livers, an extra large sausage-and-meatball pizza, and bacon-wrapped bratwurst for her brunch. Hansel’s sister was a fifty-three-year-old sorceress of traditional German beauty. Her dirty blonde hair was worn in braided pigtails. Her green eyes watched me with an intense fire that seemed to burn into my mind. Bloody sauce stained her ruby lips, while her fingers were greasy and slightly burned from taking a tray of meat pies out of the oven for dinner. The meat pies were made from the flesh of a slaughtered priest. 

“Hello, Miss Payne,” I said.

Gretel stared at me. I could tell that she wasn’t amused by my attempt at friendliness. 

“Who are you?” Hansel’s sister asked. 

“He’s my friend,” Rapunzel replied. 

“Your friend?” Gretel repeated.

“He’s from the Land Without Magic. His name is Robert. He’s Merlin’s kid.”

The green eyes of the sorceress enlarged in alarm at the mention of the Sorcerer’s name. 

“In that case, forgive me for my rudeness,” Gretel apologized. 

“You are forgiven,” Rapunzel proclaimed. 

“I did not know that the surrogate son of the great Rabbi Merlin was invited as a guest in this house. Do you wish to dine with me?”

“I’ve already dined,” I replied.

“What did you eat?” Gretel asked.

“I had tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.” 

“Sounds delicious.”

Sucking on her thumb, Rapunzel turned around and saw the Blind Witch sweeping the floor with her broomstick. 

“What brings you to the northern woods?” Gretel asked.

“My appetite for fantasy and adventure,” I declared. 

“One writer’s fantasy is another reader’s reality,” the Blind Witch remarked. 

“Are you Rapunzel’s boyfriend?” Gretel wondered.

“Actually, I’m her babysitter, her caregiver, and her lover. I love Goldilocks. She loves me.” 

“May you both live happily ever after,” Gretel said.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Gretel replied.

“Does anybody want to know what’s on the menu for _Nonna_ tonight?” Miss Braeburn asked. 

“We do,” Rapunzel and I replied.

“Yesterday, I captured a plump and juicy priest whom I shall be having for my Sunday feast tonight. I am currently salivating at the thought of devouring the flesh from his plump, rosy arms and his round, succulent thighs. His heart, lungs, and liver shall be fried in butter. His marinated fingers will be my appetizer. His entrails will be made into blood sausages.” 

“Why do you enjoy killing and eating fattened priests?” Rapunzel asked.

“Because that’s what the wickedest witches love to do. Witches are enemies of the Christian people. We love to kill, cook, and eat members of the clergy because they strengthen our powers, prolong our lives, and supply members of our community with sustenance.” 

“Granny’s a witch. I’m a sorceress,” Gretel pointed out.

“I’m a werewolf,” I replied. 

“Are you a good wolf or a bad wolf?” Gretel asked.

“I personally identify as being chaotic neutral.” 

“Do you care to stay for dinner?” the Blind Witch offered.

“Sorry, but no,” I declined.

Lifting Rapunzel from the floor, I carried my beloved princess through the kitchen and out the back door of the cottage into the backyard where our woodland misadventure along the road of yellow bricks continued.


	8. Inside the Tower of Rapunzel Within the Western Woods

In the same fashion as a groom with his lawfully wedded bride or a babysitter with their child, my hairy arms carried Rapunzel into the northern woods, where I trekked my way through the enchanted garden that once belonged to Gothel and was now inherited by her mother’s granddaughter, the winged witch named Cassandra. In the heart of the garden stood the eighty-foot-tall tower that once functioned as the gilded cage which held the Princess of Pampers within its walls as its prisoner. Ivy and thorny roses had grown from the mossy base of the tower, wrapping around the walls in a spiraling formation which extended to the rooftops. 

“Welcome back,” I whispered to Rapunzel.

Rapunzel looked up at the tower. Her seventy-five-foot-long rope of braided hair hung down from the main window, begging to be grabbed onto and used to climb up. The Queen’s daughter jumped out of arms and ran toward her cast-off-braid. She was the first person to climb upward into the tower. I followed her afterward. Entering through the window, I looked around the room and smiled. I stood in the middle of the main chamber with four doorways which led into the spacious rooms within the tower. The interior design of the tower was as exactly as I remembered it. Furnished in the fashion of a traditional Bavarian cottage mixed with a Victorian nursery, featuring modern touches in certain areas, the tower utilized candles and lanterns as a source of lighting rather than electricity. Four doorways led into the four rooms that made up the tower. There was the dining room, the nursery, the kitchen, and the living room. Two fireplaces. Lots of space for the Princess of Pampers to play and enjoy herself. Not a single bathroom in sight. Rapunzel’s iconic braid was coiled around the main chamber of the tower in a serpentine manner. The princess herself sat down on the floor. I slowly approached her only to discover that she was in the middle of changing herself. She had taken the largest, fullest, and stinkiest dump in her diaper. I averted my eyes to avoid losing my brunch. 

“You don’t like dirty diapers?” Rapunzel asked.

“Nope,” I replied.

“Why not?” Rapunzel wondered.

“Because they gross me out. You’re cuter when you’re soggy.”

Rapunzel understood how I felt. She handed her dirty diaper to me. I ran into the kitchen with the foul package and disposed of it by throwing it into the open fireplace. I covered my nose to avoid the unpleasant experience of having my nostrils be infected with the aroma of the soiled padding as it was consumed by the hungry flames. The deed was done. The malodorous monstrosity had been destroyed. Having gotten rid of the dirtied undergarment, I washed my hands twice with warm soap and water, reciting Lady Macbeth’s infamous speech about washing the blood from her hands. 

“Robert? Are you doing alright in there?” Rapunzel called out from within the nursery.

“I’m fine, sweetie. I’ll be with you in three minutes.”

Three minutes later, I joined Rapunzel in her nursery, where I sat down at the bay window beside her. The skirt of her pink-and-purple dirndl was removed, revealing her thickly diapered crotch and bottom for me to visually enjoy. I did what most lovers did in a consensual relationship with their partners after knowing them for ten years. I embraced, kissed, and cuddled with the princess, savoring every moment of our affection for each other. She felt her way into my pants. I reached inside of her diaper. She giggled as I tickled her sensitive spot. We were latched onto each other’s embrace and shackled by the handcuffs of romance which bound us together. Rapunzel was the Goldilocks to my Big Bad Wolf. The Belle to my Beast.

“Do you love being all fresh and clean?” I asked my partner. 

“The feeling of a fresh diaper has always been my greatest comfort during the darkest times of my life,” Rapunzel replied. 

“Do you care to elaborate?” I asked.

“My diapers are part of my infantile lifestyle. My lifestyle is what kept me sane during the ten years that I spent within this tower as the prisoner of my abuser. The tower wasn’t the problem. Gothel was.”

“Do you think Gothel might come back from the dead?”

“I doubt it,” Rapunzel sighed.

“Do you have any pet peeves?” I wondered.

“I hate it when the kids touch my hair.”

“Your hair?” I asked.

“The children of the village know me because of my hair. It’s part of my story. All of the little kids in the village love to touch and play with the Queen's daughter's golden locks. Everybody wants to get their dirty hands all over Rapunzel. They want a piece of her, don't they?"

“Couldn’t you just tell them to stop?” I replied. 

“That’s the problem. They won’t stop. There’s a reason that I gave up on babysitting.”

“I thought you gave up on babysitting because you were falsely accused of pedophilia by a group of concerned but misinformed Puritanical parents due to your identity as an autistic and incontinent Adult-Baby with a soft spot for youngsters?” I argued.

“The haters don’t bother me as much as they used to. I love little kids, but they can be annoying and get on my nerves.”

I laughed along with the princess, smiling at her in a gentlemanly but bestial way to ease her anger. Her whole life had been nothing but trauma, drama, and bullshit. She was a resilient survivor of sexual and emotional abuse. I was an artistic but unusual victim of bullying who had been emotionally and verbally wounded by my mother. We were different but similar.

“Welcome to my world, Your Highness.”


	9. Out Comes the Evil

Meanwhile, within the soup kitchen of the Church of Corona, the Reverend whom the Grimm Scribe had encountered preached to his audience of Puritanical parents and their children about his enemy’s beastly nature and how it would be impossible for a monster such as himself to have heroic traits. The conservative Christians who terrorized the kingdom were no longer obsessed with the hunting and killing of witches. Werewolves were their newest obsession. 

“Is anybody aware of what a werewolf is?” the Reverend asked his audience.

A farmer raised his hand. He received permission from the preacher to speak. 

“A werewolf is a nocturnal beast with the mind of a human and the body of an animal,” the agricultural peasant replied. 

The Reverend smiled at this answer.

“That is correct, my dear man. Let all of the peasants in this room be aware that werewolves are enemies of God. I don’t care if they turn out to be charmless princes in disguise. They are inherently monstrous. If these nocturnal creatures had existed in the Old Testament, they would have been sentenced to death and stoned for their crimes against humanity.”

“Amen!” the audience cheered. 

“God knows that you don’t make heroes out of monsters.” 

“He knows all,” the Puritans replied.

“Now, I shall ask all of you a follow-up question.”

“What’s your question?” the farmer asked. 

“What does a werewolf’s diet include?” the Reverend replied. 

“I can answer that,” a butcher called out. 

“Tell me,” the Reverend commanded. 

“Werewolves have an insatiable appetite for little girls, grandmothers, sheep, baby goats, sausage, bacon, and ham.”

“It appeases me to know that I’m not surrounded by idiots,” the Reverend laughed. 

The audience laughed with their leader.

“We all know that God created all sorts of fantastic beasts, but why on Earth would He use His power to give birth to such unearthly abominations such as the werewolf? It is not within His character. Werewolves are not God’s children. They are the spawn of the Devil. Are we heathens, ladies and gentlemen? No, we most certainly are not. We are the lambs and sheep of the Good Shepherd. As His children, it is our sacred duty to hunt down those who oppose those and purify them by any means necessary. The wicked shall not go unpunished.” 

“No one mourns the wicked!” the audience cried out. 

“How do we kill this beast?” one of the villagers asked.

“Since the best way to bring families together is to give them a particularly dangerous nemesis worth fighting against, we shall form an angry mob armed with torches and pitchforks,” the Reverend revealed. 

“But what if this werewolf isn’t evil? What if he’s a misunderstood loner who views himself as a freak?” a concerned mother argued. 

“What if the Reverend is the werewolf? Should we kill him?” another villager argued.

“First of all, I am not a monster. I am a human. Second of all, everybody who has studied zoology in this kingdom knows there is no such thing as a lone wolf. Everybody knows that werewolves hunt in packs in the same manner as regular wolves. I am appalled by your suggestion that this monster should warrant sympathy from such a godly establishment. Werewolves aren’t heroes. They are demons. Demons should be sent back to Hell where they belong.” 

Half of the audience agreed with their Reverend’s words. The other half broke into a fight with those who were on their enemy’s side. In the midst of the unholy chaos, Belle stormed into the church, carrying Drew in her arms. The duo was accompanied by Queen Anna of Arendelle. 

“What’s going on?” Anna asked. 

“What are you doing here?” the Reverend demanded. “We do not permit royalty from other kingdoms inside of God’s house. Go away. Your presence is forbidden. Leave us at once.”

Belle recognized the Reverend. He was a Parisian strongman with blue eyes and black hair worn in a braided ponytail that reached down to his thighs. 

“Gaston?” the Beast’s wife gasped. 

“Belle? Is that you?” the Reverend replied.

“I thought he was killed by the Beast?” Anna argued.

“Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“Those are wise words which I did not expect to be heard from the mouth of a hypocritical wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Belle snapped. 

“I am simply doing my duty as a priest to protect the lambs and sheep of God from Satanic forces.”

“Are you really a priest? Or are you an egotistical tyrant who’s attempting to create a false enemy in order to make yourself look like a God among men?” Anna replied. 

Anna’s words shut Gaston up like a steel bear trap in a forest where nobody was around to hear it. He did not dare to argue with royalty. Especially a woman. Women of royal blood were one of few enemies that Gaston had given up on fighting and arguing with. 

“Besides, if you were really one of God’s men, then how come you hunt and kill animals for sport?” Drew asked. 

Gaston peered down at Drew from the pulpit. The Adult-Baby prince was wearing an off-the-shoulder onesie based on Belle’s golden yellow gown, yellow gloves, and rose-colored stockings. 

“Why are you dressed like a baby?” the Reverend demanded. 

“Answer his question first,” Belle replied. 

The Reverend complied with Belle’s demand.

“I hunt animals because I love to have trophies and antlers in all of my interior decorating.”

“How dreadfully savage!” Drew gasped.

“Why are you dressed in infant’s clothing?” Gaston replied.

“Because it’s cute.”

“He’s an Adult-Baby,” Belle explained to her nemesis. 

“What in God’s name is this infantile abomination? Our Father in Heaven, did I mean to send demons in your name?” the Reverend said to himself. “I am but God’s middle finger, and yet greater evils have arrived in this house to judge me. What have I done to be punished in this way?”

“Gaston, you are positively small-minded,” Belle remarked.

“That’s Reverend Gaston to you.” 

Drew stuck his tongue out at the Reverend. He blew a raspberry before being carried out of the church in Belle’s arms. Anna followed her companions out of the soup kitchen and onto the streets of the village where they made their way back to the palace. 


	10. Skin Deep

Rapunzel smiled as she knelt down, removing my pants as I took off my vest and my gloves. She giggled at the sight of my underwear. I felt a boner forming in response to her reaction. My excitement at the thought of sleeping with the Princess of Pampers was proven to be bigger than my junk. 

“Now it’s your turn,” I said.

The Queen’s daughter stood up. Unlacing the front of her bodice, she removed the upper part of her two-piece dirndl, revealing her breasts. I was hungry for the feeling of rubbing my private parts all over the front of her padding. She knew what I wanted. Grabbing her pacifier necklace, she sucked on the rubber nipple. Her right hand crept its way down the front of her diaper. I was immediately hooked. I knew that Rapunzel’s padding wasn’t going to stay dry for long. Reaching inside my thong, I pulled out a knee-length blanket of black-and-white checkered fleece. The blanket was the perfect size for swaddling a pampered princess. Rapunzel squealed at what I had in store for her. She giggled and wiggled, jumping up and down as she flapped her hands around. I spread the blanket down beside her. She laid down on the blanket and opened her legs. Kneeling down next to her, I rolled her up like a burrito, gently swaddling her with care. She was ready for the ultimate form of evening playtime. Spreading my legs, I positioned myself over the swaddled princess, drooling excitedly as I got on top of her. Our fun began. 

“Does that swaddling feel good?” I growled, drowning in the ecstasy of the moment between myself and Rapunzel. 

“It’s warm and comforting,” Rapunzel replied.

I continued grinding on top of my darling Goldilocks. She giggled and wiggled around in her cocoon. Though she enjoyed being swaddled, she complained to me that her diaper lacked room to breathe. I undid her swaddling so she could pleasure herself. Her left hand reached between her legs, firmly grabbing and squeezing the front of her Pampers Cruisers. She saw for who I truly was. I was the werewolf of her dreams. She was the princess of my heart. In this nursery, in this tower in the northern woods, we were a pair of legendary lovers whose unlimited bond was unbreakable. Rapunzel caught me staring down at her crotch. We giggled together. The Queen’s daughter was clearly amused by how extremely horny we were behaving this evening. She moaned and gasped while in the midst of giving herself the rubdown she craved. 

“Do you ever wear any other Pampers besides Cruisers?” I wondered.

“I sometimes wear Baby Dry and Swaddlers,” Rapunzel replied.

"How do they feel?" I said. 

“They are as comfortably absorbent and perfectly thick as the diapers that I usually wear during my adventures.” 

“May I please give your diapered crotch a kiss?” I asked.

“You may.”

I pressed my lips against the front of Rapunzel’s diaper. She smirked at me in a way that told me that her other partner had done this before. I knew she loved wearing, using, and playing naughtily in her diapers as much as she loved the company of sexually unconventional werewolves who believed in the power of consensual love. Once I had grown tired of humping her, I picked her up from the floor, walked over to her cradle, and laid her down. 

“That’s enough playtime for tonight,” I decided. 

Rapunzel smiled as she looked up at me. She sucked on her fingers while making baby noises. I laughed at her childish behavior. The princess closed her eyes. I tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead. 

“Good night, Robert,” Her Highness said.

“Good night, my beautiful baby girl. Sleep tight. Don’t let the demons bite.”


	11. Wake Up Call

The next morning, during the early hours of daytime, I awakened in the living room. My inner caregiver's senses were tingling. Something was wrong. Something was off-key. I rushed into the nursery only to find that the cradle was empty. I prayed to myself that Rapunzel hadn’t been kidnapped again.

“Where’s the baby?” I asked myself.

My ears became alerted to the sound of Rapunzel’s infantile screams and cries. I ran into the main chamber of the tower. An elderly sorceress stood in front of the doorway to the kitchen. She wore an off-the-shoulder gown of crimson-and-lavender velveteen. Her pale, liver-spotted skin was wrinkled and translucent with veins underneath which made it appear as if she was cracked porcelain and not an inhuman demon. Her purple eyes were the same color as her fingernails. The demon’s indigo braids were alarmingly reminiscent of dreadlocks. She cradled the swaddled Rapunzel in her arms. The frightened princess was whimpering, sucking on her fingers as the demon grinned nastily at her. I withdrew my sword from my scabbard and pointed it at the sorceress.

“I know you,” I snarled. 

“Do you?” the sorceress laughed. 

“You’re Zhan Tiri.”

Zhan Tiri continued grinning as she stared at me, invading my personal space. Her smile creeped me out.

“I prefer to be known as the Enchantress of the Western Woods. I had no idea that you were in love with the daughter of my mistress.”

“Rapunzel isn’t your daughter,” I replied.

“That’s not what Gothel believed.” 

“If Gothel is dead, then why are you still here?” I snapped.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Zhan Tiri laughed.

“Actually, I would.”

Zhan Tiri conjured a chair and sat down, unwrapping Rapunzel’s swaddling so she could fondle the princess as her way of mocking my love for her. She proceeded to tell her story to me.

“For one-hundred-and-sixty-five years, I have resided inside the head of Gothel, acting as her conscience and her guide. Three years ago, after that old witch experienced a fatal meltdown at the hands of a holy water balloon that your precious princess kept inside her twelve-inch-thick Pampers, I manifested as the physical representation of everything that my mistress stood for. I find it wretchedly ironic that Gothel is dead but her tower has remained standing for twenty years.”

“Sometimes the architectural handiwork of a villain is more memorable than the villains themselves,” I remarked. 

“Your wisdom arouses me. I like you. Why don’t you join me and be my concubine? We can do great but terrible things together.” 

“Why in Hades do you think I would align myself with a predatory succubus such as yourself and abandon Rapunzel?” I barked.

“Why wouldn’t you? You’re a werewolf. I’m a demon,” Zhan Tiri insisted. 

“Your point?” I growled.

“Let’s be monsters together. We shall conquer the world and bring our Christian enemies to their knees.”

“My identity as a werewolf doesn’t mean that I’m affiliated with my baby girl’s abuser or her crazy sidekick,” I argued. 

“Robert knows best, doesn’t he? Robert’s so mature now. Such a big boy he is.”

“Your allusions to Gothel sicken me,” I remarked. 

“Your nonchalant attitude towards Rapunzel’s diapers disgusts me.”

“Hand Rapunzel over to me and get the fuck out of this tower!” I ordered.

The pale-skinned sorceress handed Rapunzel to me. She snapped her fingers. Her chair vanished. I held my sweet princess protectively. Rapunzel placed her right hand in her mouth and sucked on her fingers as I checked her diaper. I watched Zhan Tiri walk over to the window, open the shutters, climb up onto the ledge, and take flight from the tower in the form of a bearded vulture. With that horrible woman gone, I walked into the living room, sat down by the fireplace, and cradled Rapunzel in my arms. Both my adult self and my inner child were unable to fathom why the demons of this world refused to refrain from doing their worst to harm the Queen’s daughter. 

“No matter what happens, you will always be my baby,” I promised.

“Could you please sing for me?” Rapunzel asked.

“Sorry, baby girl, but I don’t sing. I’m not that kind of sidekick.”

“Please?” Rapunzel pleaded.

“I meant what I said.”

Rapunzel apologized and pledged not to bother me again. Removing myself from the chair, I sat down at the little lady’s vanity in the nursery, combing my hair. Rapunzel remained in my clutches. 

“You sure love Rapunzel,” my reflection remarked.

“Who doesn’t love her?” I replied.

“The haters,” Rapunzel replied. 

“Guess what? As long as I’m here, those haters will think twice about hurting you. They won’t have to deal with you anymore. They will have to deal with me.”


	12. Baptism by Smoke and Fire

That evening in the tower, between being asleep and awake, I watched over Rapunzel as she slept in her cradle. I was saddened by the sound of her sobbing in her sleep. Her sobs transformed into hysterical screaming which assaulted my ears. I covered my ears and rushed over to her side. Pascal was perched on top of her head. The princess hugged a Pooh Bear doll close to her bosom. 

“Did my baby girl have a bad dream?” I asked.

Rapunzel silently nodded.

"What happened in your bad dream? Tell me." 

“Zhan Tiri appeared to me in a nightmare,” Rapunzel replied.

"Did she? That's not good."

“We were in the tower together on a Sunday morning. She hurled you out of a window so she could have me all to herself.” 

“No demons or witches will break our relationship apart,” I promised.

“What if my nightmare comes true?” Rapunzel argued.

“We will find a way to destroy this demon,” I assured the princess.

“Are you being honest with me?” Rapunzel wondered.

“Honest as Jiminy Cricket himself. Now go back to sleep. I’ll be heading outside tonight.”

“Where are you going?” Rapunzel asked.

“I’m headed to the village. Good night, sweetie.”

“Good night, Robert.”

I kissed Rapunzel on the forehead and departed from the tower by climbing down her French braid. The village was ten miles away from the Dark Forest. Realizing that I could easily grow tired from walking such a lengthy distance, I made things easier for myself by transforming into a human-sized Eurasian wolf. Entering the village, I noticed an army of peasants gathered around the town square where there stood a circular heap of kindling with a cross-shaped stake in the center. The villagers carried torches and pitchforks. Their leader was none other than the Reverend of the Church of Corona. His ghastly smile sickened me. I knew their intentions. They viewed me as a demon. They planned on crucifying me by burning at the stake simply because I existed. They were idiotic bigots. 

“Do you see this creature?” the Reverend asked his followers. 

“We see him,” the crowd replied. 

The villagers pointed their fingers and narrowed their eyes at me. 

“This wolf appears to be innocent and harmless, but he is none of those things. He is a wicked creature. The wicked shall not go unpunished.” 

“You’re the wicked creature, not me!” I shouted at the Reverend. 

The priest ignored my protest. His hateful words enraged me. Roaring loudly, I transformed back into a human, discovering that my clothes had disappeared. Only my leather-and-fur thong remained. I glared menacingly at the Reverend as his followers hogtied my hands behind my back and shackled me to the stake. The villagers cheered viciously. 

“Burn the demon!”

“The forces of evil must be effectively eliminated.”

“May the Lord have mercy on his soul.”

“Let him die a slow, painful, agonizing death.” 

“No one mourns the wicked!” 

“Kill the beast!”

“Bring him down!” 

The followers of the Reverend approached the kindling that was stacked around me. The flames from their torches ignited the bonfire. The firewood crackled and sputtered. I refused to scream. The aroma of my situation reminded me of roasted meat at a barbecue. All of the men, women, and teenagers in the audience screamed and covered their eyes as I mutated into a humanoid version of my inner Eurasian wolf. They couldn’t burn me. I was magically protected by the paternal powers of Merlin. Being burned at the stake was merely a picnic compared to what I was about to do. Concentrating on my vengeful fantasies, I closed my eyes and snapped my fingers, transporting myself from the bonfire to the front row of the audience. The Reverend had switched places with me. He was the one who ended up being roasted on the pyre. His shrill, tortured screams were musical candy to my ears. I turned around and grinned at the horrified audience. 

“The wicked shall not go unpunished.”

The Reverend continued screaming as the ravenous flames devoured the flesh and muscle from his bones. Smirking smugly, I shoved my way through the audience, fighting back against their insults and their attempts to arrest me for rightfully punishing a mortal demon who appeared to ordinary men as a member of the clergy. I arrived at the front doors of the palace in the center of the village. I politely knocked. The doors were answered by His Majesty’s wife.

“Good evening, Robert,” Queen Arianna said.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” I replied. 

“My husband is asleep. You may come in.”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” I asked Her Majesty. 

“I usually stay up late,” the King’s wife answered. 

I followed Rapunzel’s birth mother into the throne room which doubled as the dining room. I sat down at a circular table next to the King’s wife. She offered a cup of coffee and a plate of chocolate heart-shaped cookies. I accepted her midnight snack. 

“What have you been up to with my daughter?” Queen Arianna asked. 

“We’ve been on a romantic adventure together. I had brunch with her, changed her diapers, took her to visit Gretel and the Blind Witch, and now she’s residing in her woodland sanctuary.” 

“Do her diapers disgust you?” Rapunzel’s mother wondered.

“Only when she’s stinky.”

"She's such a good little baby girl."

"She's our good little baby girl," I insisted. 

“Are you her boyfriend?” the King’s wife replied.

“I’m nothing of the sort. I'm the caregiver, babysitter, lover, and bodyguard of Her Highness.” 

“Does my baby girl enjoy your company?” the Queen said.

“Rapunzel loves me as much as she loves wearing and using her Pampers like the small baby she is. It’s no wonder she has three nurseries. Two of these nurseries are in this palace, while the third nursery is the third room in her tower. Speaking of Pampers, your Adult-Baby daughter’s got an entire collection of twelve-inch-thick diapers stashed away in that walk-in closet of hers where her dirndls and onesies are kept. She always had a childlike sense of fashion.”

“Her fashion sense matches her personality,” Her Majesty admitted. 

“Indeed,” I replied, dipping one of my cookies in my coffee before taking a bite and a sip. 

The King’s wife did not criticize my table manners. I broke my cookies in half before eating and dipping them. The Queen watched me with obsessive amusement as I ate and drank my fill. She kept staring downward at my bulge which poked through the skintight leather. My erection reminded me of the thickness of Rapunzel’s diapers and how they bulged out between her little legs like a fluffy pillow. I wondered if Her Majesty was aware that I had engaged in the most unconventional form of intercourse with her daughter. I hoped she didn’t mind. We couldn’t help ourselves. I thanked the Queen for her hospitality before transporting myself back to the tower where I decided to spend the night in her daughter’s nursery. To my surprise, Maleficent and Anna were watching over the sacred child as she slept peacefully in her cradle. I smiled at this heartwarming sight. The two women noticed my presence. 

“Why are you wearing a thong?” Maleficent asked me.

“It’s a long story,” I replied.

Anna took my hand and led me toward her wife’s bed. I stared at the sleeping cutie. Rapunzel’s cradle was painted lavender with golden suns and ducklings printed on the sides. Reaching inside the cradle, I pulled back the blanket, smiling at my baby girl. The Princess of Pampers wore a periwinkle blouse with puff sleeves and pink socks as her choice of pajamas. I checked her diaper. The squeezable padding was warm and squishy. 

“You are quite protectively fond of my little beastie,” Maleficent pointed out to me.

“How do you know this?” I asked.

“I have the ability to read minds. You love her. You want to protect her.”

“I know,” I replied. 

“Remember that I am her surrogate aunt. We should take turns caring for the princess and seeing to her every need.”

“Good idea,” I said.

Rapunzel’s second childhood was both adorable and admirable. This was a little lady who deserved the world. She never asked to be kidnapped, enslaved, and abused by a predatory madwoman who only saw her as a living baby doll instead of a person. My feelings about Gothel and her misbehavior matched those of her mother. Gothel was no mother. She was a monster who had murdered the innocence of this small but grown-up puppy and raped her childhood. There were no tears to be shed for the downfall of Gothel. She got what she deserved. The demise of the witch had brought about the second childhood that Rapunzel had desperately desired.


	13. Storyteller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The roles of the Author and the Apprentice have been composited into a single job in this universe instead of being separate characters. I thought it would be a cool idea to work with in this story. Also, to anyone who thinks self-insert stories are "cringy" or "childish", I dare you to look up Dante Alighieri's _The Divine Comedy_ on Google. It's the most famous work of self-insertion fiction in literary history.**

“Are Pampers more absorbent than Huggies?” Rapunzel asked me, watching me from her highchair as she enjoyed her breakfast of prune juice and diced pears. 

“In this world, they are,” I replied.

"I love my Pampers so much. They are super comfy and thick."

“However, in the Land Without Magic, it’s the opposite, since your Pampers aren't as thick as they are here.” 

“Which country in the Land Without Magic are you from?” Rapunzel wondered.

“I currently live in southern Wales, but I originally came from a forested state which can be found on the northeastern side of America. It’s where I was born and raised.” 

“That’s cool! I came from my Mommy’s womb,” Rapunzel replied. 

“We know,” Maleficent and Anna laughed. 

I sat in the living room at the table between Anna and Maleficent. Rapunzel’s highchair stood beside the table. I sipped iced tea from a sippy cup and ate dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. Maleficent shot a concerned glance in my direction. 

“Don’t judge me,” I snapped at Rapunzel’s surrogate aunt.

“Sorry,” Maleficent apologized. 

Rapunzel pouted and whimpered. She wiggled around in her highchair. The diaper-clad princess felt her prunes and pears work their magic on her digestive system. She unleashed a massive load into her diaper. The twelve-inch-thick padding thickened and stretched as it bulged out between her legs like a swollen balloon. Her diapers weren’t just thicker and cushier than Huggies. They were enchanted as well. 

“Does my baby girl need her diaper changed?” Anna changed.

“I’ll change her later,” Maleficent replied to Rapunzel’s wife.

"Why can't Anna change her?" I argued.

"Because I'm one of Rapunzel's underrated caregivers."

"Of course you are," I muttered.

“For now, let’s hear some more of Robert’s stories. I love hearing the sound of his voice.”

After finishing my breakfast, I walked over to Rapunzel and tickled her underneath her chin. Her giggles satisfied me. 

“Did you know that there are alternate universes with French and Italian versions of Rapunzel’s story?” I asked the group.

"Yes, I've heard this before," Anna yawned.

“In certain realms, she’s named after parsley instead of rampion. Her names are Petrosinella, Prunella, Persinette, and Parsilette." 

“I told her what you’re telling us three years ago,” Maleficent yawned. 

“Four years ago, before Rapunzel’s family went on a quest during the princess’s twenty-fifth birthday to destroy Gothel, I discovered a distastefully half-baked universe created by two Authors known as Kitsis and Horowitz. This universe was called the Wish Realm. In this realm, Gothel is a tree nymph with a green thumb who dabbles in witchcraft and Rapunzel is Cinderella’s stepmother. Rapunzel Tremaine is a peasant-turned-noblewoman who is locked up in the witch’s tower for six years and uses her braided hair to escape, only to find that her husband has remarried. She ends up becoming a maidservant in her own household before rising to power as Cinderella’s abuser.” 

“I’m Cinderella’s stepmother?” Rapunzel gasped.

“I’m afraid so.”

“That’s fucked up,” Rapunzel replied. 

“And tragic,” Anna agreed. 

"There's also a darker and more violent universe where Rapunzel’s story does not end happily ever after. This realm that I speak of is a kingdom of twisted fairy tales ruled by the Evil Queen and the Wicked Witch of the West,” I revealed. 

“What’s this universe called?” Anna asked.

“The Kingdom of Scary Tales.”

“What happens to me in that universe?” Rapunzel asked.

"Instead of escaping your prison to obtain independence and freedom, you are brutally scalped by Gothel and condemned to remain as her enslaved prisoner within your tower in the heart of her enchanted garden where a horticultural kingdom once stood. The tower in this realm is twenty-seven feet taller than yours. Your golden hair becomes a sentient monster that ensnares foolhardy knights and princes, wrapping itself around their bodies and strangling them without mercy, while you scream like a baby over the loss of your hair. Also, your best friend is a gecko instead of a chameleon. Additionally, besides having your wig snatched, there's another universe called the Land of A Thousand Fables which features another version of yourself. Your name is Longlocks. Not Goldilocks. Longlocks. You end up hanging yourself with your braided hair after eighteen years of hopelessly awaiting rescuers to climb up your tower and save you. Your spirit haunts the tower in the form of an undead wraith which summons skeletal knights in tainted armor to attack intruders who come across your tower in the heart of this world."

Rapunzel began to cry like an infant upon hearing of her other selves and her fates in the other worlds I described. She was lifted from her highchair and held in Maleficent’s arms. The Mistress of Evil glared daggers at me.

“Too much information?” I guessed. 

“Way too much,” the Dark Queen of Fairies snarled.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Sorry? That’s all you can say? The little beastie is frightened out of her mind because of those horrid stories you told her.”

“I didn’t mean to scare the poor baby.”

“Well, you did, and she’s horrified. Didn’t you know that scary stories are harmful to the ears of sensitive children?” Maleficent scolded me.

“I’m the Author, not a pediatrician.” 

Maleficent patted Rapunzel on the bottom and kissed her to comfort the four-foot-five princess whom she saw as her surrogate niece. She laid the Princess of Pampers down on the floor to be changed. I looked away as Rapunzel was being cleaned up as part of her morning routine. The Dark Queen of Fairies handed Rapunzel’s dirty diaper to me. I threw the soiled undergarment into the fireplace where it was devoured by the insatiably gluttonous flames. More fuel for the fire. More food for thought. 


	14. Romantic Circle of Big Boys and Baby Girls

Maleficent departed from the tower. She told me before leaving that she sensed the existence of a demon greater than Gothel in this world and that she was going to seek it out. I wished her good luck on her personal quest. She thanked me for my kind words with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. I was flattered. With the Mistress of Evil gone, I followed the baby-faced Princess of Pampers and the plus-sized Queen of Huggies into the nursery, where we sat down on the floor in a circle and decided to nonverbally display affection towards each other. I noticed that Rapunzel’s hair had grown four feet longer since last night. Three, seven, and four were considered to be lucky numbers in the world of fairy tales. Rapunzel smiled as her wife presented to her the basket of flowers and mushrooms she had collected from her adventures in the forest. The edible vegetation and fungi were to be used for soup. The non-edible flowers were used to adorn Rapunzel’s braided hair. I admired the outfit that the Queen’s daughter was wearing this morning. She was dressed in a mauve-and-gold onesie with gigot sleeves and pink fingerless gloves. A pink-and-purple bib was fastened around her neck. I pointed to Rapunzel’s crotch. She smiled and nodded with understanding of my subconscious request. Reaching downward, she grabbed onto the lower region of her onesie and rubbed it, opening her legs before unsnapping the crotch to reveal her almighty diaper. She gave herself a rubdown. Her moans and sighs deeply excited me. Clicking her tongue, Rapunzel beckoned me to come over, wanting me to play with her and tickle her. I decided to break the silence between us. 

“Do you enjoy being tickled?” I asked.

“Tickling is kinky,” Rapunzel replied.

“Why do you think it’s kinky?” I answered.

“Because it turns me on.” 

Rapunzel’s answer did not surprise me. I expected such a horny response from a sexually playful princess. She smiled at me. 

“Am I the werewolf of your dreams?” I asked.

“You are the strangest caregiver I’ve ever met or heard of,” Rapunzel replied. “I can’t remember another man like you.”

Before we could kiss each other in front of Anna, our romantic moment was interrupted by the sound of an infant’s screams. I stared into Rapunzel’s emerald eyes. 

“What the fuck is that noise?” I demanded. 

“What you hear are the little cries of my inner child,” Rapunzel revealed.

Rapunzel got up from the floor and walked over to her cradle where her seven-month-old self was crying. The twenty-eight-year-old princess comforted her inner child by cradling her in her arms and singing a Norwegian lullaby to herself. The grown-up Rapunzel smiled at me. Her inner child was the spiritual reflection and physical representation of her younger self. 

“Where did you get that baby from?” I asked.

“From the Netherworld,” Rapunzel replied.

“The Netherworld? Oh, that’s right. It’s where you and Wendy went to confront the ghost of Gothel in the nursery of your dreams. Alice’s seven-year-old counterpart acts as your inner child’s caregiver. She can only remain in this tower for half of the day.”

“Why can’t she stay here with you?” Anna wondered.

“Inner children can’t stay outside of their respective realms for certain periods of time because things will get awkward between themselves and their adult counterparts,” I explained. “It’s the rules of the Netherworld. The Netherworld is a realm which answers the question of where we go after we fall asleep. It’s where Aurora’s soul slumbered for sixteen years before she was woken up by Snow White’s kiss. Speaking from personal experience, I’ve actually been to the Netherworld before.”

“Where did you go?” Rapunzel replied. 

“I awakened in the Palace of Dreams where I was confronted by the ghosts and demons of my guilt-ridden past. I defended myself against my worst nightmares with the Shield of Virtue and the Sword of Truth so that the evil visions died and my goodness endured.” 

Anna raised her hand.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” I asked.

“Remember how you were talking about alternative universes and how there are multiple versions of my wife?” Anna replied.

“What about them?” I answered. 

“I was wondering if there was a darker incarnation of myself?” Anna asked.

“Actually, there is. That universe is a woodland kingdom known as the _Grimm Märchenwald_ , or the Disenchanted Forest. It’s similar to the Kingdom of Scary Tales but weirder.”

“What happens within this kingdom?” Rapunzel inquired.

“In this fabled kingdom, all of the fairy tales have bloody endings. Snow White is a vampire who is corrupted by the poisoned apple and impales the Seven Dwarfs on wooden spikes outside their mine, the Blind Witch searches for prey after she has feasted on Hansel and Gretel for her dinner, Belle is an elegant huntress who slaughters the eviscerated carcass of the Beast with her hatchet, Pinocchio is the puppeteer of Stromboli’s outdoor theatre of puppets where the corpses of his enemies are used as marionettes, Red Riding Hood gets mauled by the Big Bad Wolf, the Pied Piper lures lost children into his lair with his music only to murder them in cold blood, and Anna ends up killing Elsa to obtain her frozen heart.”

“All of these alternative worlds are so disgustingly depressing and darkly over-the-top,” Anna remarked. 

“Are there no happy endings?” Rapunzel asked.

“Not in those worlds,” I replied. 

“Why would somebody create such macabre worlds where fairy tales become scary tales?” Anna mused.

“One man’s fairy tale is another man's horror story. Don’t even get me started on how many different versions of Wonderland and the Land of Oz there are.” 

The Queen of Huggies gave Rapunzel’s inner child a kiss on the cheek. The seven-month-old counterpart of Anna’s wife smiled and cooed. Rapunzel snapped her fingers. Her inner child disappeared. 

“Now that Rapunzel’s infant self has gone back to the Netherworld, does anybody want to talk about me?” I asked.

“You are quite knowledgeable about other realms and the stories within those worlds,” Rapunzel remarked. 

“It is my sacred duty as the Author to collect and document stories of all the realms that exist, whether our documentations exist within the pages of storybooks or within our memories. However, there is a catch.”

“What’s the catch?” Anna asked.

“Being the Author doesn’t necessarily mean that one controls the story or the events of other stories within certain worlds. Many Authors throughout history are known for transforming fantasy into prophetic reality. That’s not always the case. When an Author or Apprentice intrudes upon another character’s story, no matter if their heart is in the right place, terrible things are known to happen.”

Rapunzel decided to change the subject since I darkened the mood of this morning. 

“Does anybody want to see me do a trick?” Her Highness asked.

“Do the Diaper Dance!” I cheered. 

Rapunzel turned my wish into her command after drinking bottles of juice. The Princess of Pampers twerked wildly, her extremely soaked and sagging diaper swinging back and forth between her legs like a pendulum of padding. I howled my approval. She gave me a thumbs-up and smiled. As she jiggled and wiggled, Anna checked her own diaper, discovering that she was soggy and messy. I asked her if she had ever worn Pampers before. She answered that it would be best to try them out for her wife’s sake. I went into the living room to give Rapunzel and Anna their privacy. When I returned to the nursery, my eyes witnessed the most adorably precious sight that I had ever seen. Anna sat on the floor with Rapunzel in her arms. The two women were cuddling and wearing different kinds of Pampers. Rapunzel wore Swaddlers. Anna was wearing Baby Dry. 

“Why are you so lovely together?” I asked.

“Because true love is the greatest magic of all,” Rapunzel replied. 

“What about the magic of diapers?” Anna laughed.

“What about both? Both are good. Diapered romance is wonderful.”

I sat down beside Anna and Rapunzel. Anna was tickling her wife by sticking her right hand through the leghole of Rapunzel’s Swaddlers. Reaching inside my diaper bag of holding, I took out a bright pink vibrator, three baby bottles of fruit punch, and a storybook from Merlin’s library. The book was navy blue with the title engraved on the front in golden letters. The font used for the titles was Times New Roman. The book was titled _Grimm Fairy Tales_. 

“Look, Anna! Robert has a storybook with your favorite fairy tales in it,” Rapunzel pointed out.

“Yes, I do,” I replied. “You’re such a smart baby.”

“Thankies!” Rapunzel giggled. 

Anna grabbed _Grimm Fairy Tales_ from the floor and skimmed through the pages. The storybook contained twelve condensed versions of popular and underrated fairy tales that were found in the seven volumes of _Once Upon A Time_ which were stocked in the Rabbi’s bookshelves. Rapunzel’s wife was pleased to discover that the twelfth fairy tale in the storybook was Red Riding Hood’s story. An illustration on the right side of the page depicted the Queen of Huggies in costume as the fabled maiden. Her storybook persona was depicted as a fair-skinned, happy-go-lucky preteen with ginger hair and azure eyes. Alongside her red hooded cape, she wore a white blouse with gigot sleeves and a red-and-black gingham miniskirt which displayed a strawberry-printed diaper underneath. She clutched her picnic basket. The basket contained a fresh diaper with blueberries printed all over along with chocolate cake and a bottle of cranberry wine for her grandmother. 

“Those berry-themed diapers look pretty sweet,” Anna remarked. 

“May I please have a look?” Rapunzel asked.

“Of course, sweetie,” Anna replied, handing the storybook to her wife. “Here you go.” 

Giggling excitedly, Rapunzel grabbed the book from her wife, turning the pages backwards to the eleventh fairy tale which was revealed to be the story of Goldilocks and her encounter with the Three Bears. The left side of the page illustrated Rapunzel as the titular heroine. She sat at the table in the dining room of the cottage where she displayed a full tummy and an even fuller diaper after eating three bowls of porridge. Her golden ringlets were three feet long. She wore an off-the-shoulder dirndl of pink-and-purple gingham. A teddy bear version of Koda was cradled in her arms. 

“I’m adorable,” Rapunzel said. 

“You’re always adorable,” I replied.

“You’re just right,” Anna laughed, kissing her wife on the cheek. 

“What’s the original moral of my story supposed to be?” Rapunzel asked.

“Are you talking about Goldilocks or your tragic backstory?” I wondered.

“My wife’s backstory,” Anna clarified. 

“Are you sure your wife won’t get scared?” I asked.

“I’m not easily frightened,” Rapunzel promised. 

“Rapunzel’s story depicts the consequences of theft, obsessive desire, and abusive parenting. The witch was a predator who kidnapped the Princess of Pampers from her crib and enslaved her because she wanted our baby girl all to herself like the disgusting creep she was. As we all know, Rapunzel is named after the bellflower of rampion, which is the same shade of purple as her dirndl. In the Brothers Grimm version of the story, Rapunzel’s parents weren’t royalty. They were either peasants or nobility.”

“Talk about going from riches to rags,” Rapunzel chuckled.

“Unlike this universe, the Grimm’s Rapunzel isn’t a baby at heart and she doesn’t wear diapers, but I’m pretty sure there’s no mention of a bathroom in her tower,” I continued. “On the bright side, she is a natural-born soprano with a beautiful voice.” 

“Her vocals are enchanting,” Anna agreed. 

“What happens to me in the Grimm universe?” Rapunzel asked.

“Your singing seduces a wandering prince who climbs into your tower after requesting for you to let your golden braids down to him, flirts with you, and ends up sleeping with you. Guess what happens next?”

“I’m pregnant?” Rapunzel guessed.

“Smart cookie! Anyway, when Gothel finds out about your pregnancy after you hint to her that your clothes are growing tight around your belly because of the baby bump, she gets so dangerously pissed off that she screams at you under the false impression that you’ve disobeyed her. She punishes you by grabbing a pair of scissors and cutting off all of your precious hair.”

“No! Not my beautiful hair!” Rapunzel whined. 

Anna hugged Rapunzel and patted her on the back before handing her over to me. I snuggled with the princess, giving her diapered crotch plenty of gentle rubdowns to comfort her. I resumed my story. 

“After your traumatic haircut, you are banished to a desert or wilderness where you have little to eat and no company,” I whispered to Rapunzel. “You give birth to a pair of fraternal twins. Your prince is blinded by the witch and wanders the countryside, refusing to give up on finding you. Eventually, you are reunited, and you live happily ever after.”

“Yay!” Rapunzel squealed, bouncing around in my lap while laughing through her tears. 

“Why do bad things happen to good girls?” I asked.

“Because the world is dark and cruel,” Rapunzel answered. 

“You’re just saying that because Gothel said the same thing.”

“But there’s truth in lies,” Rapunzel argued. 

“That’s enough storytime for today. Who wants to have some naughty fun with me?”

Rapunzel raised her hand. I conjured an oblong pillow and placed the cushion between the legs of the diapered princess. The Queen’s daughter undressed herself before humping the pillow in the middle of the floor. She was a wild child. I was her favorite werewolf. I thirstily panted and moaned in a canine manner as I watched Rapunzel enjoying herself. Anna’s wife imitated me. I handed the two baby bottles to her. She drank them down like a good girl. After wetting herself, she grabbed the vibrator and turned it on, pressing the naughty toy against her crotch to pleasure herself. She was politely ordered by yours truly to make sure that her diaper was sticky and wet. She smirked at me, knowing what sort of alternative fantasies that the carnal appetite of my inner Beast craved. Rapunzel’s wife knew that her partner and I have been together for three years. Our relationship was an unbreakable circle of romance. 

“Is my little Goldilocks enjoying herself?” I asked.

“Yes, she is! She loves her pillow,” Rapunzel giggled. “Thankies, Daddy!”

“You’re welcome, baby girl, but I’m not your Daddy. I’m not into that sort of kinky shit. You have an actual father who loves you despite his attitude towards your identity. I am one of your caregivers.” 

“Sorry for you calling you Daddy,” Rapunzel apologized.

I crept up from behind Rapunzel, wrapping my arms around her waist as she humped her pillow. She smiled while placing her hand on her crotch to check herself. 

“It’s okay. It’s just that certain nicknames make me uncomfortable.” 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Rapunzel asked.

I kissed the back of Rapunzel’s head.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable. You’re the Goldilocks to my Big Bad Wolf. You’re just right.”


	15. The Greater of Two Evils

Maleficent walked with her granddaughter through the enchanted garden in the western woods. Diablo was perched on her shoulder. His mistress carried her staff which channeled her energy into her magical powers. She wore an inverted cross around her neck and a crown of thorns on her head. The granddaughter of Maleficent was dressed in silver-and-gold armor with a burgundy cape draped over her shoulders. Her armor and haircut were inspired by the legendary but beautifully tragic Maid of Orleans. 

“You look beautiful as ever today,” Maleficent said to her granddaughter.

“Thanks, Grandma,” Cassandra replied. “I’m a Goth knight. I’m prepared to combat against the darkest evils that this world has to offer.”

“A Goth knight? How pleasantly unorthodox.” 

Diablo cawed in a way that made Maleficent think he was laughing at her remark. He flew off her shoulder and took on his human form. 

“It feels good to be a man again,” Maleficent’s servant remarked.

“You look fetching as a warlock,” the Dark Queen of Fairies agreed.

Maleficent’s family continued their stroll through the darkest parts of the wilderness where red and white roses bloomed in abundance from thorny bushes. During their walk, Cassandra noticed a twelve-year-old girl smiling back at from behind a thicket of thorns. The girl was pale-skinned with lavender eyes and indigo hair. She wore a black-and-blue dirndl and navy blue tights. On her feet were worn a pair of black Mary Jane shoes. 

“What’s a child doing in the middle of the woods?” Diablo asked.

“I do not know,” Maleficent replied.

“Hello, Cassandra,” the girl replied.

“Who are you?” Cassandra replied.

The girl’s mouth stretched into a freakishly wide smile which reminded Maleficent’s granddaughter of Momo. Her smile didn’t match with her harmless appearance. Her teeth were sharp and jagged.

“I am a friend, or at least I’d like to be. My name is Zhan Tiri. You must be Cassandra, the daughter of my former mistress. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s a motherfucking displeasure to meet you,” Maleficent replied.

The hellfire of rage ignited in the demon’s eyes. She transformed from a twelve-year-old girl into a one-hundred-and-sixty-five-year-old sorceress with six arms, the eyes of a ram, and the talons of a vulture. 

“Watch your tongue!” Zhan Tiri snapped.

"Excuse me?" Maleficent asked. 

“I do not take kindly to those who use foul language. Gothel could never abide cursing in her household. I wish to follow in her footsteps. Mother always knew best. It’s too bad that she couldn’t keep Cassandra in her proper place as a maidservant.”

Cassandra angrily removed her sword from her scabbard. She swung at Zhan Tiri. The sorceress blocked the attack. She grabbed onto the blade and held her breath for three minutes. The blade shattered into thirteen pieces. 

“The granddaughter of the Mistress of Evil thinks she can defeat me? How pathetic,” Zhan Tiri laughed. 

“The darkest demons are not incapable of being destroyed,” Cassandra argued. 

“A demon, am I? You are mistaken. I do not have horns or dragon’s wings.” 

“My daughter used to say the same thing to justify her misbehavior,” Maleficent remembered.

“Your daughter was victimized by your endless bullying and lectures.”

“I was not bullying or lecturing her. I was simply trying to warn her that her actions had consequences,” Maleficent growled. 

“Gothel was simply trying to be the best mother that she could possibly be for Cassandra and Rapunzel. These two ladies were sisters by another name. They deserved to be raised by the Mistress of the Western Woods and be part of her family.”

“Rapunzel wasn't my sister. She was an abuse survivor who happened to be my short-term girlfriend,” Cassandra hissed. 

“You loved her?” Zhan Tiri asked. 

Cassandra was infuriated by the spiteful tone which Zhan Tiri used. She kicked the ungodly sorceress in the stomach, pinning her to the ground by placing her left foot against her stomach. 

“I loved Rapunzel in the same way that her birth mother and her surrogate aunt did. She is a precious ray of sunshine. If you plan on doing anything to hurt her or ruin her life, I will hunt you down, and I will kick-drop you into another dimension if I find out that you’ve been screwing with her.”

“Rapunzel belongs to me,” Zhan Tiri laughed.

“Rapunzel is her own person. She doesn’t belong to anybody. Not Gothel. Not you. Not even me.”

“Sorry, dearie, but I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“You sound just like Gothel,” Cassandra realized.

“I am Gothel. Part of her, anyway, but it’s the same difference.” 

The granddaughter of Maleficent was horrified to discover that Zhan Tiri and Gothel shared the same brain. The sorceress was practically the same person as her enemy’s abuser. Cassandra covered her ears as Zhan Tiri revealed her master plan to Maleficent and Diablo.

“When I get my hands on Rapunzel, I’m going to force so much laxatives into her little body that she’ll have no choice but to pack her Pampers like a good baby girl, and then I will have an endless supply of fertilizer. Once I have obtained my fertilizer, I will slaughter Rapunzel’s parents, take over the kingdom, and rule over the peasantry as their divine monarch. The reign of Zhan Tiri shall be my dream come true.”

“Your dreams won’t come true if I’m around to stop them from happening,” Maleficent warned her daughter’s sidekick. 

“Really?” Zhan Tiri chuckled.

“I’m not joking.”

Zhan Tiri grinned threateningly at Maleficent’s family.

“Neither am I.” 


	16. Plagued Realities and Kinky Confessions

Anna sat down in the rocking chair beside Rapunzel’s cradle, gently rocking the Princess of Pampers to sleep in my arms. I was seated criss-cross applesauce in front of her. Rapunzel yawned, wiggling around like a worm as she stretched her arms and spread her legs. I admired how adorable she looked in her pink-and-black-striped tank top and lavender booties. Drew had been summoned from the palace to keep us company in the nursery of Rapunzel’s tower. 

“Do you plan on going back to Arendelle?” I asked Rapunzel’s wife.

“My big sister is in charge of my kingdom now,” Anna replied. 

“But don’t you miss her?” Drew asked.

“I miss Elsa, but she told me that it’s better if we went our separate ways. I’m staying here with Rapunzel. There’s no way I’m going back to my Norwegian kingdom. Corona is prettier than Arendelle. Plus, I have a larger fandom, which is good news for me.” 

“What about you? Are you planning on returning to the Land Without Magic?” Rapunzel said to me. 

“Going back to the real world is out of the question. I hate that freaking hellhole,” I replied. 

“Why do you hate your homeland? What’s wrong?” Rapunzel asked.

“The world that I once called home is diseased. That’s what’s wrong with my homeland. The Land Without Magic is currently suffering because the real world has been cursed with a deadly plague of foreign origins. The plague that I speak of has the same name as your beautifully hot mess of a kingdom. People are dying. Society has collapsed. Societal constructs have been exposed. Most of the elitist members of the upper class have taken advantage of the situation to satisfy themselves.” 

“When the poor are starving, they shall gladly eat the rich,” Rapunzel remarked.

“The literal consumption of wealthy bastards is a fantasy compared to what’s happening in reality. Let’s just say that my mental state isn’t the only thing that’s transformed into an unhinged trainwreck.” 

“That’s terrible,” Rapunzel gasped.

“Do whatever you can to cope when disaster strikes,” Anna replied.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” 

“What’s Drew doing to cope with this disaster in your world?” Rapunzel asked. 

“Well, I sometimes read, draw, play video games, or try not to think about reality,” Drew answered. “I think of a place where I’m free from cares and stress.”

“Drew also told me that he prefers to stay here in this world rather than return to the Land Without Magic,” I replied. “He loves being among his favorite princesses. Both of us agree that fantasy is greater than reality. We would happily spend the rest of our days as Rapunzel’s caregivers. I don’t mind changing her diapers or providing her with whatever she wants to make her happy. Rapunzel is the light of my life and the lantern in the darkness of my mind. She’s giggly, wiggly, and wild. She’s my beautiful baby girl. My little Goldilocks. If any demon dares to harm her, their blood will be on my hands, and it will taste as sweet as raspberry jam.”

“Have you tasted blood before?” Anna wondered.

“Not really, but I want to. Reasonable violence is my kink. Revenge is my lover.”

“You get turned on by morally responsible bloodshed?” Rapunzel asked.

“How did you guess?” I laughed. 

“I figured that you’re the type of werewolf who’s a gentleman in the streets but a warrior on the battlefield and a sexy beast in the bedroom.” 

“A sexy beast?” I replied.

“The sexiest beast ever.” 

Playfully growling, I arose from the floor, snatching Rapunzel from her wife’s arms and holding her small body against mine in my warm embrace. The four-foot-five princess happened to be the perfect height for caressing, hugging, cuddling, and other physical forms of affectionate appreciation, aside from being small enough to wear baby diapers. I laid down on the floor of the nursery with Rapunzel on top of me. She was my good girl. I was her big boy. The biggest, baddest boy. 

“I love you, Goldilocks,” I whispered to Rapunzel.

“I love you more.”

I kissed Rapunzel’s forehead. 

“I love you most.”

While Rapunzel hugged me tightly and cuddled with me, her wife fell asleep in the rocking chair. Rapunzel and I couldn’t stay asleep that night. We spent our evening humping each other. Her Highness treated me as her personal playmate in her nursery. She was my rider. Before she loved me, I slowly learned to love myself, despite my self-hatred and the regretful mistakes of my childhood that my younger self remembered. I was proud to be a monster. I hated being seen as the villain in another person’s story. My mind was unable to keep track of the various haters and enemies who misrepresented me as a troublemaker to make themselves appear powerful. Having enemies was good. Being hated was the opposite of good. 

“Want to switch?” Rapunzel asked. 

“What do you want me to do?” I replied.

“Surprise me, big boy.”

“Please get off me first,” I commanded.

The Princess of Pampers dismounted her hairy steed and sat down on the floor in front of him. She gazed into his dark chocolate eyes.

“I’m waiting,” Rapunzel yawned. 

I smirked at the Queen’s daughter.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, show me that pampered pussy of yours.”

“Robert, Robert, remove your pants.”

I undressed myself. Rapunzel opened her legs and tugged on the waistband of her diaper. Her Swaddlers were perfectly ripe. The padding was super soggy due to the wearer not being allowed to have anything but fluids for her dinner. I pressed my hand against her crotch. 

“Does my diaper feel good?” Rapunzel asked.

I took Rapunzel’s question as an opportunity to have a back-and-forth conversation with her. 

“Your super soggy diaper feels heavenly,” I answered.

“I am a soggy baby!” Rapunzel giggled. 

“The soggiest and the babiest,” I agreed. 

“Do I look cute in Swaddlers?” Rapunzel replied. 

“You’re adorably beautiful in all varieties of Pampers.” 

“Even Cruisers and Baby Dry?” Rapunzel asked.

“Both of those diapers fit you perfectly.” 

Rapunzel placed her hands on my hairy chest. She pinched my nipples and licked her lips. I growled happily while she reached inside my thong. I felt her hands playing with my junk.

"Would you like to be my Prince Charming?” Rapunzel teased. 

“That depends on what you are planning on doing with me.”

“I could keep you warm in my tower and have your half-naked body tangled up in my golden hair."

“That sounds kinky, but charming princes and knights in shining armor have nothing on me, since I’m a werewolf in biker’s clothing. By the way, is being an Adult-Baby a fetish, a kink, or a lifestyle for you?"

“It’s a mixture of all three,” Rapunzel admitted.

"Explain what you mean to me," I requested.

“What I do in terms of my Adult-Baby lifestyle basically depends on my mood. There are some days where I’m horny and kinky. During the other days, I’m just a pampered baby at heart being cared for and protected by my loved ones.” 

I stared at Rapunzel’s nine-foot-long braid. It was long enough to be styled but not too long so that she could trip over her golden hair and fall on her face. 

"Do you prefer your braided hair to be nine feet long or seventy-five feet long?" I asked.

“Nine feet of golden hair sounds more reasonable than seventy-five. Plus, it’s easier to braid and decorate,” Rapunzel replied. 

“Your answer is more realistic than reasonable. I’m guessing that seventy-five feet was too much to brush, comb, braid, and wash every day?” 

“I hated the original length of my hair since it reminded me of the days when I was nothing more than an enslaved prisoner with a rope ladder grown from her scalp. I cut off seventy feet of my braided rope so that it wouldn’t be tied to my abuser. She has no power over me. Not anymore.” 

“Do you love your tower more than your palace?” I said. 

"The palace is a fortress compared to this woodland nursery. An enchanted tower without doors or stairs is a tower I want to live in. This eight-foot-tall sanctuary has everything I need for my alternative lifestyle. It’s been my special hideaway for twenty years. It’s where I developed my love for Pampers and discovered that I was an Adult-Baby on the night of my eighteenth birthday.”

“Keeping on the subject of Adult-Babies, is it truly public knowledge in your kingdom that you love being diapered and babied?” I asked.

“My identity as an autistic and incontinent Adult-Baby has been public for ten years already. Everybody knows about me. I’m a celebrity in this world and yours. I even have my own Facebook page. Most of the parents in my kingdom keep their kids away from me since the incident that happened six years ago where a group of haters started to spread kink-shaming propaganda about me and accuse me of being a predator even though I adore children. I would never harm youngsters. I’m not attracted to children. I’m attracted to the idea of being a child as an adult. I hate reading about the endangerment of children. It sickens me that actual predators think they can get away with their crimes and not face the reality of their actions. As a little girl whose golden flower of childhood was stolen and reclaimed, I am being brutally honest when I say that pedophiles deserve to be roasted alive in the pits of Tartarus where they belong. The Puritans who attempted to bring me down shouldn’t have gone after me. They should have gone after the demons who actively harm literal children instead of a grown-up baby who just wants to live happily ever after with her friends and family. They’re the monsters. Not me.”

Drew and I applauded Rapunzel’s speech. Her feelings toward predators and their victims were the same as ours.

“What about you? Do you have an inner child?” Rapunzel asked me.

“I do, but he’s dark and angsty,” I replied. 

“Dark and full of angst? Why does he feel that way?”

“My inner child is dark and full of angst because his adult counterpart hates himself. He tries to enjoy life but thinks that he’s a disgusting monster because of the bad things he’s done in his past.” 

Rapunzel grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer to her. 

“Let go of the past,” Her Highness whispered to me. “Hating yourself isn’t healthy. Learn to love the beauty within the beast. You don’t have to feel like a monster. You’re bigger than that.” 

“Why does this sound like something that Belle would say?” I asked.

“Because I’m one of Belle’s friends.” 

“That makes sense.”

“Since we’ve exchanged truths with each other, do you want to play a game of dares with me?” Rapunzel offered.

“How about if I dare you to make the biggest, fullest, and stinkiest mess in your Pampers?” I replied.

“Challenge accepted!” Rapunzel exclaimed. 

Rapunzel’s acceptance of this dare was further proof that tonight was going to be specially sexual in the greatest sense possible. She was pretty good in terms of dumping massive amounts of waste and fluids into her diapers. The Queen’s daughter was her Mommy’s little stinker. The incontinence never bothered her anyway.


	17. Durably Dirty Diaper Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In our world, actual Pampers aren't extremely saggy or super thick as they are in Rapunzel's world, which is why artistic liberties are to be taken when they are called for within the story. While there are worse things in this world than Rapunzel being diapered and babied, my apologies go out to those who are uncomfortable by this concept, since that wasn't my intention. I kindly ask you to refrain from jumping to misinformed conclusions instead of making said concept into a big deal or spreading false information about Adult-Baby Rapunzel on Twitter without doing your proper research on ABDL culture.**

I was huffing and puffing that night as I watched Rapunzel fill up her diaper to the brim after drinking three bottles of fruit punch and three bowls of porridge which were laced with laxatives. While the grown-up child relieved herself through the emptying of her bladder and her bowels, she removed her tank top, unveiling her breasts for the viewing pleasure of yours truly. Her heavily droopy diaper turned me on. My hunger was out of control. So was my boner. I needed to feed my appetite and satisfy Rapunzel at the same time. 

“Twerk, Rapunzel!” I growled. “Twerk like you’ve never twerked before.”

Rapunzel twerked her butt off to appease my nocturnal cravings. Her saggy diaper jiggled back and forth, comically flopping between her legs, having taken on a life of its own. I loved it whenever her Pampers drooped and sagged down to her toes. It was an adorable sight for the sore eyes of a wolf whose fetishistic desires were fed with great care. However, there was a general rule concerning Rapunzel and her diapers. She could be soggy for as long as she wanted. If she was messy or had a two-for-one combo in her diaper, then she was allowed to play around for no more than thirteen minutes, so that she wouldn’t get a rash or an infection. 

“What’s that dance called?” I asked.

“The Dirty Diaper Dance,” Rapunzel replied. 

“That’s a dirty diaper alright. Shake that bum!” 

Her Highness quickly became tired of naughtily dancing in her dirty diaper in such a wildly childish manner. Her improvised moves made me laugh and smile with all the amusement that a werewolf of humble birth could display in front of his little lady. I retrieved a fresh diaper and wet wipes from my diaper bag. I asked Her Highness if she needed to have her diaper changed. The princess nodded. She grabbed the diaper and wipes from me. I turned the other cheek while she cleaned herself up. I wasn’t lying when I said that I couldn’t handle messy diapers. They were the bane of my existence. After she was finished with changing her diaper, I tackled her to the floor, tickling her without mercy but with her consent. Rapunzel squealed and giggled. I continued to tickle her as if I wasn’t going to stop. I ran my fingers along the edges of her chubby thighs, amazed by how plump and fresh she was, all while salivating at the sight of her thickly diapered crotch and bottom. We both agreed on the fact that she looked cuter when she was dry or soggy. After the tickling came the hugging and cuddling. My hairy arms were wrapped around her waist. Her lips kissed my forehead. This was the first of many courses to be enjoyed during our carnal banquet of physical desire. My idea of intercourse was not the conventional sort. Rather than inserting my junk into her vagina, I swaddled the Princess of Pampers in my black-and-white-checkered blanket, placed her between my legs, and rapidly humped her in order to make myself sticky and wet. She smiled at me while I did the deed. I huffed and puffed as if I was about to demolish the entire tower with the power of a windstorm born from the breath within my lungs. I could tell that Rapunzel was excited whenever she was around me. She loved me like her personal teddy bear. I felt the princess wiggling around. Wishing to be free from her cocoon, she undid her swaddling, poking at her diaper. I ceased rubbing my wolf parts all over her so I could spend the rest of my night by squeezing, rubbing, and squishing her diaper so that Rapunzel would be pleasured before she fell asleep. She sucked on her thumb as she slept. Lifting Rapunzel from the floor, I carried her over to her cradle, laid her down, and tucked her in with a gentle kiss on the forehead. 

“Good night, my beautiful baby,” I whispered to Rapunzel.

The princess blew a kiss to me before resuming her evening slumber. After putting Rapunzel to bed, I went into the kitchen and sat down at the table so that my other appetites would be satisfied. A silver platter of venison sausages, a bowl of tomato soup, and a cup of fried chicken livers appeared in front of my eyes. Aside from the meat, there were also strawberries, sliced peaches, and Cara Cara oranges which were freshly peeled. The perfect dinner for a brown-skinned werewolf in biker’s clothing. I submerged my face in my soup, licking the warm, rich liquid from my face like a vampire drinking blood from his latest victim, savoring the sweet flavor of my meal. The sausages and chicken livers were the remainders of my meal that ended up being devoured after the soup. I was hungrier than the Big Bad Wolf himself. My stomach didn’t have enough room for the fruits that were meant to be my dessert after dinner. The soup and fried meats had satisfied me enough. With a heavy mind and a full tummy, I fell asleep in my chair, becoming the victim of slumber without dreams, for I could only see my beautiful Rapunzel and nothing else within my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dear fellow autistic folks, please don't try Rapunzel's diapered dances at home. I do not suggest using a messy diaper for sensory-oriented playtime or pleasure since it is unsanitary and unhealthy.**


	18. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

I woke up within a garden in the courtyard of what was once the castle of King Arthur. Now it was a fortress in ruins where my master’s cottage stood. A cloaked figure slowly crawled towards me. He was six-foot-eight. I was five-foot-six. I clutched onto the blanket which was used for swaddling Rapunzel. Removing my sword from my scabbard, I prepared for a fight. The figure removed his hood and revealed his face. I recognized his dark hair and his dark brown skin. 

“Merlin?” I gasped.

“Good evening, Robert,” the Rabbi replied.

“Why am I here?” I asked.

“It appears you’ve been neglecting your sacred duties.” 

“What happened? Where’s Rapunzel?” I demanded. 

“Rapunzel is doing fine, but I want to know why you’ve traveled to another realm without my knowledge.” 

I proceeded to reveal my story to the Sorcerer. 

“Listen, I had no idea why this whole thing happened. All I know is that Snow White showed up in my bedroom, gave me an enchanted apple which I took a bite from, ended up in my alternative universe of fairy tales and pop culture references, and became Rapunzel’s loving caregiver. Also, Gaston was an evil priest who ended up being burned at the stake by yours truly, but that’s another story.”

“Your story intrigues me, but that’s no excuse for not telling me about your adventures,” the Rabbi insisted. “I was worried sick about you. You were gone for seven weeks. I was left to take care of a library which has books heavier than the Torah itself.” 

“My apologies,” I replied. 

“Don’t you know there’s a pandemic going on? You could have been killed. You could have been infected. I would hate to lose you like I lost the other two Apprentices who became my Authors and never lived to tell the tale.”

“The pandemic doesn’t exist in my world,” I argued. 

“And yet worse demons exist in the kingdom which shares the same name with this deadly plague,” the Rabbi said to himself.

“You do realize I can hear you? Right?”

The Sorcerer turned around and smiled at me, pulling the hood of his cloak over his eyes. Somehow, despite living in the modern age, this incarnation of Merlin always loved to act like the Jewish counterpart of the mysterious old druid from the Arthurian legends of the olden days. He even played medieval soundtracks on his CD player during Shabbat dinner in his library. 

“Do you truly love Rapunzel?” Merlin asked.

“Yes, I truly love her with all of the love that a lover could have,” I sighed. 

“Do you feed her? Dress her? Change her diapers?”

“Why are you asking me these questions? Have you been watching over me this entire time?”

“Yes,” the Rabbi confirmed. 

“Are you weirded out by the fact that I’m doing the deed with Rapunzel while she’s diapered and swaddled?” I asked.

“As an open-minded Jewish man of color who has seen and experienced many strange things throughout his life, I can say without dishonesty that an Adult-Baby princess is the least of my concerns. Do with her what you will as long as it’s safe, sane, and consensual. I know many things about you, Robert of Pennsylvania. You are not a monster. You are an autistic werewolf of mixed heritage who only wishes to seek love and appreciation from others whom he loves and trusts in return.” 

“Isn’t this the part where you deliver some sort of a dire warning about the forces of evil making a comeback?” I wondered.

“Actually, now that you’ve mentioned such a trope, I will gladly do so,” Merlin replied. 

The Sorcerer turned around and revealed his handsome face once more. His smile transformed into a dramatic pout. 

“Robert, my devoted Apprentice and Scribe, your precious Princess of Pampers has defeated many enemies in her immortal lifetime. The Stabbington Brothers have fallen. Gothel is dead. Drizella has bitten the dust. Sugracha is deceased. Lady Caine is done for. Peter Pan is no more. Gaston has been burned alive for his sins. Only those pesky Puritans and the mighty Zhan Tiri remain. Only one can truly be destroyed with the combined powers of wisdom, love, and courage.” 

“How do I defeat her?” I asked.

“Zhan Tiri will raise Hell on your twenty-first birthday. Use Rapunzel as your bodyguard to switch things up. Have the Princess of Pampers be your protector instead of the other way around.”

“Why are you so dramatic?” I asked. 

“Because it’s my job,” Merlin replied. 

“Your job is to be a caretaker of your enchanted library. I’m the caregiver of an Adult-Baby princess who loves her diapers but hates the haters who hate her. What is my purpose in life? Am I a bad boy? A good boy? A half-bad, half-good boy?”

“You are not good or bad. You are a boy,” the Rabbi told me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There is greatness within you. Take good care of Rapunzel for me. Protect her. Love her. Do whatever it is that caregivers of Adult-Babies do best.”

“I shall guard her with my life,” I promised.

“Good night. May you live happily ever after.”

“I hope so,” I remarked. 

The Rabbi stomped his feet and clapped his hands. I was transported back to the kitchen of Rapunzel’s tower. I put my leftovers from dinner in the fridge and rushed into the nursery to check on Rapunzel. The princess was sound asleep in her cradle. Anna slumbered in her rocking chair beside her wife’s bed. I knelt down in front of the cradle and pulled back the blanket.

“Rapunzel?” I whispered. “Rapunzel, wake up.”

The sleeping beauty awakened. She sat upright in her cradle and glared at me. 

“Why are you waking me up in the middle of the night? Didn’t you know that I’m a cranky baby when I don’t get my beauty sleep?” Her Highness hissed at me. 

“Sorry for waking you,” I replied. 

“What do you want?” Rapunzel asked. 

“May I please check your diaper?” I offered.

“Not now,” Rapunzel snapped. 

“Would you like me to hold you?” I requested.

“Well, I do enjoy being safe and warm in your arms,” Rapunzel admitted. 

The Princess of Pampers reached out her arms to me. I lifted her from underneath her armpits and held her as I sat down beside her cradle. For one so small, she seemed so strong, and my arms did indeed keep her safe and warm. The daughter of Queen Arianna was part of my world. She would always have a special place in my heart and my mind. 


	19. An Untold Story

Zhan Tiri led Cassandra through the woods on a leash, barking at her to walk faster as she strolled along the yellow brick road. The granddaughter of Maleficent had been kidnapped from her grandmother’s cathedral-inspired castle by the sidekick of her abuser as part of her diabolical scheme. To add insult to injury, Zhan Tiri was dressed as a mixture of Lady Tremaine and the Evil Queen. These wicked women were two villains that Gothel had adored. The reason for Zhan Tiri’s regal but repugnant getup was so that she would be able to further rub more salt into her enemy’s wound. She knew that Cassandra resembled Snow White and her childhood resembled that of Cinderella. Her mother was a narcissistic predator who always did her best to keep up appearances. 

“Where are we going?” Cassandra asked.

“Less talking, more walking,” Zhan Tiri ordered.

Cassandra became terrified when she discovered where she was being taken by her captor. They were in the western woods where her former girlfriend’s eight-foot-tall tower stood in the heart of her mother’s enchanted garden. 

“Do you remember this garden? The garden which your dear old Mommy trusted you to guard and tend to like a good little Goth maidservant?” Zhan Tiri whispered to Cassandra.

“My mother was never my Mommy,” Cassandra replied. 

“How could you say that? She loved you.”

"Abuse isn't love," Cassandra snarled.

"That's your opinion." 

Cassandra was about to spill the truth, but Zhan Tiri told her to shut up.

“Follow me, daughter of Gothel. I have a surprise for you.”

Zhan Tiri and Cassandra arrived at a medieval-style, two-story cottage overgrown with moss and ivy. Cassandra remembered the cottage as her childhood home. This was where her mother and her coven lived while she worked and toiled away as a scullery maid. The desolate house had seen better days. The demonic sorceress led her reluctant guest inside. 

“There’s no place like home,” Cassandra sighed. 

“Home is where the hearth is,” Zhan Tiri chuckled.

Cassandra shuddered as Zhan Tiri turned around and smiled at her. The granddaughter of Maleficent looked down at her feet. Her silver-and-gold armor magically dissolved into a black-and-blue gown that was fashioned in authentic Victorian style. Blue highlights appeared in her ebony hair. A pair of black-and-blue striped gloves covered her arms. Despite the obvious wickedness radiating from Zhan Tiri’s body, Cassandra was grateful for her makeover. At least it wasn’t a dirndl this time. 

“Do you like your makeover?” Zhan Tiri asked.

“It’s beautiful,” Cassandra replied. 

Zhan Tiri examined her surroundings. She remembered the cottage and all of its seven rooms. Maleficent’s granddaughter knew the cottage all too well. The rooms included the bedroom, the library, the dining room, the kitchen, the parlor, the basement, and the attic. Just like Rapunzel’s tower, the rooms within the witch’s cottage were accessed through doorways instead of doors, with the only doors being the front and back entrances. Gothel was the type of witch who did not enjoy the concept of doors at all. She rarely used them since she relied on teleportation, walking, or broomsticks to go wherever she pleased. Cassandra remembered how her mother would often watch her when she was dressing and undressing. The memories of Gothel tainted her mind and made her eyes sting with bitter tears. Zhan Tiri took Cassandra’s hand and led her into the basement of the cottage. Seven mirrors adorned the walls. The room was adorned with the Evil Queen’s regalia and her mystical tools of murder which she had used to dispatch her stepdaughter with. There was the Huntsman’s dagger, the corset, the poisoned comb, and the basket of poisoned Red Delicious apples. It came as no surprise to Cassandra that the seventh mirror on the wall was the Magic Mirror. She had always known her mother to be one of the Evil Queen’s disciples. 

“Your dear old Mommy wasn’t one of the Evil Queen’s servants,” Zhan Tiri revealed. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Cassandra asked. “My mother is dead and gone.”

“She isn’t who you thought she was.”

“What do you mean? She was my abuser and Rapunzel’s perverted kidnapper.”

“She was also the Evil Queen.”

“What? How is that possible?” Cassandra gasped.

"Once upon a time, before you were brought into this world, the wicked witch who stole your youth was not known as Gothel. She had another name. Her name was Regina. The peasants of her kingdom referred to her as the Evil Queen.” 

“Yes, I’m familiar with the story of Snow White’s stepmother,” Cassandra sighed. 

“The Evil Queen was famed for her beauty. Her world was her mirror,” Zhan Tiri continued. “She was a wickedly seductive enchantress but also a vain and selfish rapist, an unhinged murderer, and an altogether badass madwoman who endorsed genocide against peasants. When her stepdaughter was fourteen years old, she was declared to be prettier than her stepmother, and the news of her beauty infuriated the Queen. The Queen sent the Huntsman, who was the uncle of her stepdaughter, to kill Snow White and bring back her heart, lungs, and liver as an edible token. Snow White ran away, found a certain cottage where seven little men lived, and the rest of the story you can figure out.”

“Are you telling the truth?” Cassandra replied. 

“The story has been retold and adapted many times, dearie. I am being honest.”

“What does Gothel’s past life have to do with me?” Cassandra wondered. 

Zhan Tiri sat on the ebony throne where her enemy’s mother once used as her favorite seat. She grinned at Maleficent’s granddaughter. 

“I know you’re angry at your mother. I know you hate her just like her own mother did. Turn your hatred into a weapon.”

“Turn my hatred into a weapon?” Cassandra asked.

“Use that weapon as an outlet for your rage,” Zhan Tiri continued.

"Rage is a powerful weapon indeed," Cassandra acknowledged. 

“Use that weapon against Rapunzel and her family. She was favored by Gothel over you. You must avenge the misdeed. Make her suffer.”

“Rapunzel has done nothing wrong. She wasn’t the monster in her story,” Cassandra denied.

“She has taken everything from you.”

“The Princess of Pampers is an innocent child.”

“She betrayed you.”

“Gothel betrayed me. Not Rapunzel.”

“Rapunzel is a slutty little girl.”

“No, she’s not. She’s an autistic sweetheart.”

“Destroy her.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Do as I say. Mother knows best.”

“Shut up!” Cassandra screeched at Zhan Tiri. 

Through gritted teeth, the granddaughter of Maleficent made her anger known to the sidekick of her deceased abuser. 

“You are not Gothel. You are just another one of her minions. Do me a favor and get out of my life.”

“Like grandmother, like granddaughter,” Zhan Tiri sighed. 

“I would rather be my grandmother’s child than the servant of my abuser’s sidekick. Grandma has given me the love, care, and respect that my mother never gave to me when she was alive. She’s everything that you’re not.”

“Any last words?” Zhan Tiri asked.

“Fuck. Off.” 

The sorceress smiled at the winged witch.

“As you wish, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

Zhan Tiri unleashed a banshee’s screech that nearly deafened Cassandra before vanishing in a whirlwind that cracked and shattered all of the non-magical mirrors in the basement. She was horrified by the existence of such a relentless demon. This was bad. This was worse than bad. This was terrible. If Zhan Tiri got her dirty hands on Rapunzel, then the kingdom would be forever damned. No more rainbows, sunshine, or laughter. No more love, mercy, or sacrifice. No more happy endings.


	20. Return of Zhan Tiri

“Good morning, sweetie,” I whispered to Rapunzel, kissing the top of her forehead as I patted her bottom. 

Rapunzel enjoyed having the front and back of her diaper squeezed, rubbed, patted, smacked, and squished. She enjoyed stuffing her diapers as well. The little princess yawned and reached downward to her thighs, checking the status of her Swaddlers in case she needed changing. She was extremely soaked. I told her that she could wait until I had the energy to change her. To start her morning, she dressed herself in her pink-and-purple dirndl and lavender stockings. After dressing herself, she grabbed a diaper and wipes, hopped onto the changing table, and changed herself like a big girl. She threw her soaked undergarment into the trash can on the left side of her cradle. 

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“I’m starving,” Rapunzel replied, rubbing her growling tummy.

I followed Rapunzel from the nursery to the kitchen where she climbed into her highchair. I noticed she was wearing a Baby Dry diaper instead of her usual Cruisers or Swaddlers. It was nice to know that she wore different Pampers depending on her mood. Anna and Drew had left the tower before I woke up. I overheard them talking about taking a walk in the Enchanted Forest to work up their appetites. 

“What does my baby Goldilocks want to eat?” I wondered.

“It’s a surprise,” Rapunzel answered.

“What’s your surprise?” I replied.

“Porridge, prunes, and pears.”

“Porridge, prunes, and pears? Oh my!” I laughed. 

“It’s good for my bowels and my diaper.”

I understood Rapunzel’s request. Natural laxatives helped her Pampers to become nice and packed. As much as I disliked changing Rapunzel’s messy diapers, I enjoyed watching them bulge out and thicken between her little legs as they became super full due to all of the waste contained within the padding. The desired breakfast of Her Highness appeared on the tray of her highchair. There was a large bowl of porridge, three pears, and a baby bottle full of prune juice. 

“Thankies!” Rapunzel giggled.

“You’re welcome. Now eat up.” 

The royal breakfast of the Queen’s daughter commenced. Unlike the cuisine in the Land Without Magic, the food of Corona was mostly all-natural, with no artificial preservatives, colors, additives, sweeteners, or flavors. As I watched Rapunzel eat her breakfast, I undressed myself and sat down on the floor in front of her, amused by her childish table manners. She was a messy eater who dined without silverware or napkins. It was a good thing that she always wore her pink-and-white bib during meals. I heard her making baby noises as she ate. The Princess of Pampers licked porridge from her fingers, staring down at her diaper as she dined, since she wanted to make sure that she would be super messy after her meal. She promised that she would make the biggest, fullest, and messiest diaper just for me. I kept my eyes on her cleavage and her diaper. I was unable to keep a straight face when she burped. She looked at me, smiling and giggling nervously while patting her chubby tummy.

“Did you have enough to eat? Are you full?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Rapunzel chuckled. “My diaper still needs to be filled.”

Rapunzel stood up in her highchair and removed her skirt. Uncovering her diaper, she rubbed the front of her five-inch-thick padding, licking her lips while smiling at the thought of emptying her bowels as her way of strangely arousing me. Her diaper slowly began to display signs of being filled as it dropped and sagged down to her knees. As she did her diapered dance, she screamed, grasping at her scalp as her full diaper continued dancing between her legs. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s my hair! Somebody’s touching my hair!” Rapunzel cried out. 

The disembodied arms of an invisible demon were violently grasping, caressing, fondling, and pulling on her nine-foot-long braids of spun gold. Rapunzel continued screaming and crying. These hands couldn’t clearly keep to themselves. My beastly rage was immediately activated since non-consensual touching was one of my pet peeves. 

“Be gone, demon!” Rapunzel screeched. “I command you to let go of my golden hair at once! Let go of it!”

One of the demon’s arms groped the little lady’s diaper. She slapped the hand away, sucking on her thumb and smacking her crotch to soothe herself through her fear. I couldn’t just stand there and watch Rapunzel be tormented into submission like the frightened baby she was. Whoever was assaulting her seemed to almost be threatening to scalp her. If Rapunzel got her wig snatched, then my inner Beast would come out to play, and her assailant would not enjoy being punished for hurting my little princess. Without hesitation, I ran toward the highchair, grabbed Rapunzel, and held onto her for dear life. The six-armed demon responsible for assaulting Rapunzel revealed herself to be none other than the infamous Zhan Tiri. The horned sorceress picked up the cast-off braid of her mother’s former prisoner, creepily stroking the golden hair with moans and sighs that were clearly reminiscent of an orgasm. My arms cradled Rapunzel in their tender embrace to calm her down. She held onto my shoulders and refused to let go of me. I couldn’t blame her. My body was her security blanket. I glared at the succubus who had intruded into the towering domain of Her Highness.

“Hello, Robert. We meet again,” Zhan Tiri cackled.

“Why did you assault my baby girl? What has she ever done to you?” I growled. 

“I simply wished to play with the baby.”

“Playing with the baby? By hurting her?” I snapped. 

“She was asking for it.”

“No, she wasn’t asking for it,” I replied. 

“Why do you love her so much?” Zhan Tiri wondered.

“I love Rapunzel because she’s a badass bruiser in Pampers who’s also small and precious.”

“Give the child to me. I will care for her.”

“Rapunzel doesn’t belong to you,” I replied.

“She belonged to my mistress. She’s mine.”

“She’s not yours, so get out of here and never return,” I retorted. “Do you hear me? Get out!” 

“I will not leave this tower unless you hand Rapunzel over to me.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Your dead body would do nicely,” Zhan Tiri laughed.

“Then why don’t you kill me instead of mocking me?”

“Robert, stop it. Please let me handle this,” Rapunzel interrupted. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll let you handle this situation.”

“What do you want with me?” Rapunzel demanded. 

“I want you to join me as my concubine and fill your diapers so that I may be provided with an endless supply of fertilizer after I destroy your kingdom so that I may seize the throne as the Evil Queen this realm deserves,” Zhan Tiri replied. 

“You can’t have my kingdom or my diapers. Leave us be. Go back to whence you came.”

“I came from Gothel’s head. Gothel is dead now. Why is she dead? Because of you. You killed my mistress. You must be non-fatally punished so that you may be taught a lesson in murdering your mother.”

“Gothel was many things to me, but she has never been my mother in a long time,” Rapunzel admitted.

“That’s what she said!” I agreed.

Zhan Tiri did not find any sort of humor in my reply. She snarled and pointed her middle finger at me.

“Watch it, big boy. Your days are numbered.”

“Sorry, bitch, but death threats don’t scare me. Death itself doesn’t scare me either,” I replied. 

“What?” Zhan Tiri gasped.

“Why don’t you do both of us a favor and get your Momo-looking ass out of here?” Rapunzel snapped. 

Zhan Tiri obeyed Rapunzel’s command and vanished as swiftly as she had appeared. I high-fived Rapunzel. She wiggled around in my grasp. I gently played with her squishy, squeezable diaper as if it was full of slime and not foul-smelling feces. Her diapers never leaked or exploded no matter how much fluids and waste they held. No matter how large her messes were, she always wiped and cleaned herself, since she was familiar with the concept of diaper rashes and genitalia-related infections. The fact that she was immortal and forever young didn’t take away from the reality of her being a victim of disease. 

“Am I your favorite baby girl?” Rapunzel asked me.

“My personal favorite,” I replied.

“Tell me something interesting,” Rapunzel commanded. 

“Do you want to know something special about your disposable undergarments?” I asked Rapunzel.

“What’s special about them?” Rapunzel replied.

"Those Pampers sure are strong enough to hold and retain lots of fluids along with messes. It’s no wonder they’re ten times more durable than Huggies in this universe. Those diapers are saggier, droopier, and stretchier than I expected.”

“Which do you prefer? Pampers or Huggies?” Rapunzel wondered.

“Both are cute, but I personally don’t wear them. I use the bathroom like a big boy,” I replied. 

Rapunzel pouted at me. I realized that my words accidentally hurt her feelings.

“Sorry if I made you sad. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just because you can’t control your bowels and your bladder doesn’t mean your diapers are inferior to potty-trained folks. You’re not gross or abnormal for having potty issues.”

“Does that mean my diapers are adorable?” Rapunzel asked.

“Sweetie, everything about you is adorable. That’s how your mother made you. She created you in her image. You are our little baby angel. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

Rapunzel babbled and cooed. She sucked on her fingers as her way of relaxing herself. I carried her into the nursery and placed her on the changing table so she could change her own diaper. I was the babysitter of an independent and rebellious baby who thankfully wasn’t a literal child but a childlike adult with an adult’s mind and body who happened to be born small. She was like the golden-haired lovechild of Tom Thumb and Thumbelina, except she was four feet and five inches tall, while a thumb was much smaller. I didn’t mind that she was short. I minded that she was an adorable target for predatory demons who could easily take advantage of her childish nature. After her dirty diaper was changed and thrown into the fireplace in the living room, Rapunzel sat down with me in the kitchen. I sat in one of the four chairs at the table. She rested on top of the table, attempting to pose like a pinup girl from a Playboy magazine. As she laid down against the mahogany surface while lifting her legs up and spreading them as widely as she could manage, Rabbi Merlin appeared beside me. He nearly scared the farts out of me. 

“Pardon me, but I came here to see Rapunzel and check on her,” the Rabbi replied. 

“How does this fancily dressed gentleman know my name?” Rapunzel asked.

“He’s been watching over us,” I explained to Rapunzel.

“Are you my guardian angel?” Rapunzel gasped.

“I’m not an angel. I’m a Jewish wizard,” Merlin replied. “I transported myself to this tower so I could get to know you in person.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Rapunzel Gilda Moore, the daughter of King Arianna and Frederic, otherwise known as the Princess of Pampers,” Her Highness replied. 

“My name is Merlin Elliot Ambrosious Emyrs. I am the last Merlin of my generation, the Sorcerer of Fables, and the former guardian of the legendary Arthur Hayes Pendragon-Garrigan. He was the last Arthur of his lineage, a father to his kingdom, and the Four-Hundred-and-Seventy-Eighth King of Camelot.” 

“I thought there was only one Arthur but multiple Merlins?” I argued.

“Who told you that?” the Rabbi chuckled.

“Captain Hook told me.”

“I advise you to not believe everything you hear, even if it’s from the mouth of a dirty pirate. Falsehoods and truths are often mixed together into alternative facts which blind their audience from seeking reality.” 

“Speaking of alternative realities, does anybody wish to hear me info-dump about other universes like I’ve done before?” I asked.

“Yes, please,” Rapunzel replied. 

I grabbed Rapunzel from the table and sat down next to Merlin with the princess in my arms. Playfully smacking the front of her diaper as if it was a bongo drum, I began to tell my usual tales. 

“There's an alternative universe where Red Riding Hood is the love interest of a sexy werewolf, Jack the Giant Slayer and Jack the Beanstalk Climber are the same person, Hansel and Gretel are a pair of German twins with American accents who work together as a pair of witch-hunting vigilantes, and Snow White is a warrior princess who wages war with the Huntsman and the Seven Dwarfs against her stepmother,” I told Merlin. 

“What does this version of Snow White look like?” Merlin replied.

“She looks like Kristen Stewart. They both have similar features.”

“Is the Huntsman attractive?” Rapunzel asked.

“He’s hotter than Thor,” the Rabbi remarked.

“Is Snow White a vampire in this realm?” Rapunzel asked.

“She isn’t, but she always manages to come back from the dead, doesn’t she?” 

“Indeed, she does,” the Rabbi chuckled.

“Are you familiar with the Kingdom of Scary Tales?” I asked Merlin.

“Why do you ask?” Merlin replied. 

“In that universe, there are few happy endings. Snow White is a restless zombie whose heart was stolen by the Evil Queen, Cinderella has her left foot amputated by her stepmother so she can’t marry her Prince Charming, Hansel and Gretel are cooked alive by the Blind Witch in her dungeon of ovens, Belle is a blunderbuss-wielding huntress in search of the Beast who killed her father, Goldilocks kills Baby Bear’s mother before being mauled by Papa Bear, and Red Riding Hood is the woodcutter who cuts open the Big Bad Wolf’s stomach to save her grandmother.”

“Is this the same universe where the other Rapunzel gets her wig snatched?” the Rabbi asked.

“That’s the world I’m speaking of,” I confirmed. 

“My wife was right about these worlds. All of them sound depressingly over-the-top and gruesome,” Rapunzel realized. 

“Are you Rapunzel’s boyfriend?” Merlin wondered.

“I’m not her boyfriend. I’m her caregiver. She’s my baby girl,” I replied.

“May I please hug her?” the Rabbi asked.

I stared at Rapunzel. She consented and raised her arms up. The Sorcerer lifted her from my lap and hugged her as if she was his surrogate daughter. A warm smile was visible on her face. I could tell that Merlin was pleased to meet her. We began to telepathically communicate with each other. 

_“The Princess of Pampers is a cutie pie,”_ Merlin said to me.

_“She’s the cutest of cutie pies and the babiest of baby girls,”_ I agreed.

_“How often does she need to be changed?”_

_“Usually within five minutes if she’s messy. She doesn’t recognize bathroom signals. Instead, she does her diapered dance, which involves wiggling her hips or her crotch back and forth. Basically, she twerks to tell me that she needs her diaper changed.”_

_“How long have you been together?”_

_“I’ve been her partner for three years now. She’s not really a daughter to me, but not really my girlfriend either, which is weird and a bit alarming.”_

_“Friends can be lovers and lovers can be friends. There’s nothing weird or alarming about that.”_

The Rabbi handed Rapunzel back to me. I cuddled with the Queen’s daughter as tightly as she allowed. She didn’t enjoy being hugged or squeezed for too long since it made her uncomfortable. Whether in this world or another, she was still a princess in my eyes, and I would do my best as her caregiver to keep her safe from the demons of her world. Demons such as the obnoxiously impish Zhan Tiri. 


	21. The Princess, the Queen, the Werewolf, and the Rabbi

During the late hours of the evening, when Rapunzel’s wife returned to the tower, I snuggled with Rapunzel as I sat between Rabbi Merlin and Anna in front of the fireplace in the living room. Both the Princess of Pampers and the Sorcerer were dressed in peasant’s clothing. Anna wore red-and-black lingerie under her Red Riding Hood cloak. Her Huggies were visible underneath her sheer panties. The Queen of Huggies observed me cuddling with her spouse. She wasn’t angry that I was in love with her. She was simply jealous that I was spending so much quality time with her. 

“Does Her Majesty wish to snuggle with Her Highness?” I asked. 

Anna held her arms out for her wife. I handed Rapunzel to her partner. The Queen of Huggies wrapped her arms around her wife’s torso and tightly hugged her like she was going to lose her after tonight. She didn’t want to let go of her precious princess. I couldn’t blame her. Rapunzel was our sacred baby girl. 

“Love comes in many forms,” Merlin remarked. 

“That is true,” I replied.

“Whether a relationship is platonic, sexual, or familial, all forms of love are valid as long as they’re healthy and ethical. I myself do not have children of my own, nor am I married, but Robert has always been like a son to me. I raised him from a boy to a man.”

“I’m a big boy,” I chuckled. 

“The biggest, baddest boy,” Rapunzel agreed.

As she snuggled with her wife, Rapunzel undressed herself, wiggling her way out of her clothes and opening her legs to proudly display her diapered crotch. She sucked on her thumb in an attempt to appear innocent even though she knew what she was doing. Even Merlin wasn’t fooled by her babyish behavior. 

“Being a naughty little princess, are you?” the Rabbi asked.

“Yes, I am,” Rapunzel replied. 

“Showing off your diaper like a silly babe, you are?”

“Why is he talking like Yoda?” Anna wondered.

“Because he’s a weirdo,” I answered.

“You’re both weirdos,” Rapunzel pointed out.

“What are you?” Merlin asked.

“I’m a small baby who mainly loves her caregiver, her Pampers, frying pans, chameleons, food, and daring adventures. My wife is a lover of chocolate, sandwiches, Huggies, summer, dancing, and a bunch of other things.”

“Both of you are lovely ladies,” the Rabbi replied.

“Thankies!”

“You’re welcome,” Merlin chuckled.

“How tall are you?” Rapunzel asked.

“I’m six feet and eight inches tall. Robert is five-foot-six. You are four-foot five. Your wife is six-foot-two. You are indeed a small baby.”

“The smallest and the cuddliest,” Anna commented. 

“How does Merlin know that I’m a small baby?” Rapunzel asked.

“Merlin knows everything about everyone in all of the fabled realms,” I replied.

“Does he know about our threesome?” I wondered.

Anna and Merlin nodded in unison. Rapunzel clapped her hands, giggled, and wiggled around in her wife’s lap. I felt an erection forming in my boxer shorts as I kept my eyes focused on the superbly thick padding wrapped around her crotch and bottom. 

“Where’s Drew?” Rapunzel asked.

“He went back with Belle and the Beast to their kingdom,” Merlin replied. 

“Belle has always been Drew's favorite princess,” I remembered. “She’s his role model since they’re both outcasts who love books and reading. He’s not a super huge fan of Rapunzel as he is of Belle.” 

“We all have our favorite heroines,” the Rabbi remarked. 

Rapunzel and I smiled at each other. I crawled toward her, grabbing onto her braided hair and pretending to nibble on it. My silly antics sent her into a giggle fit. 

“That is true. True indeed.”

“Would you like to be one of my caregivers?” Rapunzel asked Merlin.

“I would gladly help Robert with taking care of you and providing for you,” the Rabbi answered. 

“Are you comfortable with changing my diapers?” Rapunzel replied. 

“Trust me, Goldilocks, I can handle your messes,” the Rabbi assured the Princess of Pampers.

“What if I’m dangerously stinky?” Rapunzel worried.

“If you’re dangerously stinky, then your stink bombs will be defused, since we only wish to make you happy. You are a small baby, after all. We are your caregivers. We will protect you. I will treat you as if you were my own daughter or granddaughter. So don’t worry, sweetie, you’re safe and sound in our arms.”


	22. Morning Revelations

The evening outside Rapunzel’s tower transformed into twilight. Twilight became dawn. Dawn bled into daytime. I awoke Rapunzel and lifted her out of her cradle. I carried the Queen’s daughter from her nursery to the kitchen where I placed her in her royal highchair. Today, she wore a mauve tank top and roses in her braided hair. Her diaper was thicker and more bulgy than usual. I removed her tank top before fastening her pink-and-white bib around her neck. 

"Is that a water balloon in your diaper or are you just excited to see me?" I asked. 

“A water balloon is inside my diaper,” Rapunzel replied.

"Is your diaper okay? Does it need changing?" I inquired. 

“I am only soggy. Not messy.”

“Does that water balloon feel good? Is it wiggly and jiggly?” I wondered.

“The water balloons that I stuff inside my diapers are as wiggly and jiggly as the diapers themselves. Stuffed diapers are the best diapers. Besides, you aren’t the only one with a bulge in your pants.”

I stared down at my crotch. My erection was maintained once again. Anna and Merlin remained asleep in the nursery. 

“We have plenty of time for naughty playtime before my other caregivers wake up,” Rapunzel told me. 

“How about if we save our naughty playtime for later?” I suggested.

“That’s fine with me,” Rapunzel replied.

Since Rapunzel’s wife and the Rabbi weren’t going to be waking up sooner than later, I decided to make breakfast for Her Highness. I conjured platters of chicken-and-cheese tacos, pancakes, bacon, sausages, and ham-and-cheese burritos for our morning meal as a couple. By couple, I meant a couple of partners, not necessarily a romantic couple. Love didn’t always have to be sexual or romantic in order to be valid. The Rabbi told me this. He also told me that the conjuration of a decent meal was a labor of love. I told Rapunzel that I wasn’t hungry at the moment. 

“Why aren’t you hungry?” the Queen’s daughter asked me.

“Because I’m not in the mood,” I answered.

“I have something that can brighten your day. Come over here.” 

I approached Rapunzel’s highchair. The princess reached inside her diaper and removed the water balloon. She threw the balloon onto the floor where it immediately popped into pieces. Anna and Merlin were awoken from their slumber by the sudden noise. They witnessed the sight of Rapunzel kissing me with my arms wrapped around her. 

“Sorry? Are we interrupting something?” Rapunzel’s wife asked.

“No?” Rapunzel replied.

“Yes?” I argued. 

“Should we go back to sleep?” Anna wondered.

“Actually, you may gladly join us for breakfast,” Rapunzel said. “Robert’s not hungry, but I am, and my tummy is growling.”

Anna and Merlin joined Rapunzel during her breakfast. They sat between the Princess of Pampers. I took my seat at the end of the table. Since the appetite of Rabbi Merlin adhered to the dietary laws of his cultural upbringing, he took the chicken-and-cheese tacos, adding three or seven pancakes to his plate. Pork was one of the non-kosher foods in Jewish culture. Chicken, beef, and mutton were one of many meats which were considered to be fair game according to the culturally culinary regulations of Judaism. I asked the Rabbi if he viewed Rapunzel as his sacred child. He told me that he felt about Rapunzel in the same way that I did but in a non-sexual and solely paternal manner. I appreciated his answer. I decided to converse with Rapunzel about her growth from an abuse survivor to an independent baby. 

“How did it feel to heal from your trauma?” I asked.

“The healing journey was slow, but beneficial, and I eventually got rid of my abuser for good,” Rapunzel replied.

“So the past is in the past?” I realized.

“My past is dead and buried. Just like Gothel. My Mommy told me that holding onto the past is like a dirty diaper. It feels good for a moment, but after a while, it stinks and you need to change yourself, so you have to come clean. It's better for abuse survivors like me to throw their traumatic past out of the garbage can and into the fireplace where it belongs along with the dirty diapers and other trash that needs to be properly disposed of."

“What a strange but unexpected analogy,” the Rabbi remarked. 

“What about you? Do you have any dark secrets that you wish to bring into the light?” Anna asked me. 

“Aside from my self-hatred, I disliked wearing diapers as a kid, but I didn’t hate the concept of diapers, if that makes sense,” I revealed.

“Different strokes for different folks,” Merlin commented.

“I strongly and honestly believe that diapers are handy and comfortable for anybody who needs to wear them. I wish that mainstream society normalized diapers and didn’t treat them as inherently childish or disgusting. They’re not. They’re just as part of disabled people’s life in the same way that insulin and feeding tubes are. If you wouldn’t shame a diabetic person for needing their insulin, then don’t shame an incontinent princess with who loves her diapers because they make her feel safe and secure, not to mention that she feels like a genuine child when she’s wearing and using them.” 

Rapunzel, Anna, and Merlin applauded my speech. As an autistic person who was also a werewolf, there were times where it was difficult for my voice to be heard, and I was often rendered speechless by people who refused to listen to me because they thought they were smarter than me. They were foolish mortals. I was the monster they feared, shunned, and hated. They would hear me growl whether they liked it or not. They could take the beast out of his castle but they could never take the gentleman out of the beast nor his beloved princess away from him. 


	23. Coven

Zhan Tiri cackled along with the members of her coven, stirring a toxic brew within her cauldron. Standing between her in her circle were Drizella, Sugracha, and Lady Caine. The three witches had been brought back from the dead thanks to the magic that their new Mistress of the Western Woods had learned from her mother’s grimoire. 

“Sisters, sisters, hear my call. Who is the fairest of them all?” Zhan Tiri cried out.

“You are the fairest maiden in the land,” the witches replied. 

“It feels good to be back,” Drizella sighed, admiring her yellow-and-green dirndl which Sugracha had given to her. 

“Shall we be concocting another one of our venomous schemes?” Sugracha wondered.

“If it involves Rapunzel, count me in,” Lady Caine declared.

“Why couldn’t the Blind Witch join our former mother’s sisterhood?” Zhan Tiri asked.

“Because the candy-making baker known as _Nonna_ isn’t one of us,” Drizella replied. 

“She’s a traitor to this coven,” Lady Caine agreed.

“How long have the Nightshade Sisters been together?” Zhan Tiri inquired.

“This coven was founded fifty years ago by the late Mother Gothel, the Mistress of the Western Woods. I hope she rests in peace.”

“Actually, she’s deader than dead,” Drizella replied.

“That sucks.”

“Is it true that this circle of sisters has the most powerful magic in this realm?” Zhan Tiri asked.

“We are unlimited as long as we’re together,” Drizella said. 

“When Gothel was alive, she used to say that sisterhood was a prize not easily won,” Lady Caine recalled. 

“How did you join the sisterhood?” Zhan Tiri wondered. 

“I joined the coven to get away from my mother,” Drizella answered.

“I joined because Gothel was an excellent chef,” Sugracha replied.

“My reason for joining was because I got the chance to kill people and steal their money if they messed with me,” Lady Caine revealed.

“Good answers. Now let’s join hands and sing a song of witchery.” 

The witches held hands with the sorceress and each other. The coven danced around their cauldron. They closed their eyes, kept their heads down, and folded their hands as if they were praying. Zhan Tiri cackled and chanted:

_Occhio per occhio, errore per errore_

_Mai perdonare, mai dimenticare_

_Questo è il tuo ultimo rimpianto_

_Ciò che va, torna_

Emerald smoke erupted from the cauldron. Drizella reached inside the bubbling liquid and retrieved a Red Delicious apple. 

" _Dolce veleno, mordimi! Mordimi!_ " Cinderella’s stepsister laughed. 

" _La nostra padrona ha evocato un rosso mela come sangue per la principessa viziata con occhi di smeraldo, capelli intrecciati di oro filato e pannolini morbidi come lenzuola fresche!_ " Lady Caine and Sugracha joined in. 

Zhan Tiri raised the poisoned apple to the ceiling with a triumphant but disturbingly gleeful smile. She was also fluent in Italian. The Italian language was the standard tongue that witches normally used for their spells, chants, insults, songs, curses, and daily communication with one another. Licking her lips, with her forked tongue hanging out of her mouth, the demonic sorceress sang: 

" _La bambina reale della Regina di Corona apparterrà a Zhan Tiri e alla sua congrega quando verrà la sua notte più oscura. La Principessa di Pampers dormirà il suo ultimo sonno. Sarà nostra._ "

The coven’s moment of wicked glee didn’t last long. Zhan Tiri turned around and saw Cassandra standing in the doorway. She held a tray of lasagna in her hands. 

“Can somebody please explain to me what the fuck is going on here?” Maleficent’s granddaughter demanded. “Why are the Nightshade Sisters back from the dead? Who brought them here?”

“I did,” Zhan Tiri replied. 

“But why?” Cassandra asked.

“Because we are finally going to get our revenge,” Drizella laughed. 

“Revenge? On who?” Cassandra wondered.

“Those pesky princesses and their insipid friends. They have ruined our stories and destroyed our chances at obtaining happy endings for ourselves. Now that’s about to change.”

“You do realize Zhan Tiri is just another Gothel? Right?” Cassandra argued. 

“Gothel may not be your mother anymore, but I am,” Zhan Tiri retorted. 

“I’m forty-four years old.” 

“I’m older than you,” Zhan Tiri bragged.

“You’re not my mother. You don’t control me.”

“You are under my control as we speak,” Zhan Tiri revealed. 

Cassandra froze in place. She still held onto her lasagna. The witches grabbed the food from their former leader’s daughter and devoured it with greedy hands, stuffing their meal into their faces without bothering to thank her or ask her if she was going to invite them over for dinner in her cottage. The coven ate like a messy trio of pudgy pigs in a house of bricks. They didn’t have table manners, or any manners, for that matter. All they cared about was their sweet revenge. Revenge for the demise of Gothel. Revenge for their untimely deaths at the hands of Cinderella. Revenge against the kingdom. This was their twisted idea of the perfect happy ending. Revenge and suffering would plague the kingdom. Mercy, love, and sacrifice would take flight among the angels and saints who worked hard to make their homeland into the paradise that it used to be. The Nightshade Sisters didn’t believe that Heaven was a place on Earth. They simply desired to raise Hell because they had all the ways to be wicked. What went around came back around in return.


End file.
